TLERUBAIYATOf 
OMAR  KHAYYAM 


a  FITZGERALD  V 


GIFT  OF 
Mrs.    T.   "'.    Aiken 


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RUBAIYAT 

OF 

OMAR  KHAYYAM 


OMAR  KHAYYAM. 


**Thc  great  charm  of  all  ancient  literatures,  one  often  thinks^  is 
the  finding  of  ourselves  in  the  past.  It  is  as  if  the  fable  of  repeated 
and  recurring  lives  were  true ;  as  if  in  the  faith,  or  unbelief,  or  mer- 
riment, or  despair,  or  courage,  or  cowardice  of  men  long  dead,  we 
heard  the  echoes  of  our  own  thoughts,  and  the  beating  of  hearts 
that  were  once  our  own.  This  may  explain,  in  part,  the  popularity 
to-day  of  Omar  Khayyam,  the  Poet- Astronomer  of  Persia.  When 
Duke  William  was  conquering  England,  when  Harold  fell,  when 
Herew^ard  the  Wake  was  waging  his  hopeless  fight  in  the  fens  of 
Ely,  Omar  was  writing  on  algebra,  and  writing  poetry  too,  at  Merv, 
in  Central  Asia.  Who  could  have  foreseen  that  Merv  would  one 
day  become  a  place  of  moment  to  England,  or  that  <zve  should  be 
listening  to  that  Persian  singer,  and  finding  our  dreams  and  fancies 
anticipated  in  his  I  He  lived  in  the  Ages  of  Faith — of  Faith,  Chris- 
tian or  Moslem — and,  lo,  he  says  after  the  Greeks  all  that  the  Greeks 
said  of  saddest ;  the  most  resigned  reflections  of  Marcus  Aurelius 
rise  to  his  lips,  and  he  repeats,  long  before  our  day,  the  words  of 
melancholy  or  of  tolerance  which  now  are  almost  commonplaces^ 
That  is  why  we  listen,  because  the  familiar  sayings  come  on  the 
wings  of  a  strange  music  from  a  strange  place— from  the  lips  of 
Omar,  from  the  City  of  the  Desert.  Yet  it  is  very  difficult,  even  for- 
the  learned — even  for  Oriental  scholars — to  know  exactly  what: 
poems  are  Omar's  own  and  which  are  mere  imitations  and  copies* 
The  ancient  Persian  manuscripts  of  his  works  contain,  some  more, 
some  fewer,  of  his  *Rubaiyat,*  the  brief  stanzas,  or  quatrains,  in 
which  he  jotted  down  a  thought.  They  are  but  rhymed  poetic 
pensees,  or  maxims,  aiming  more  at  melancholy  than  at  wit.  Which 
are  his  very  own  ?  We  must  be  content  with  supposing  that  the  best 
are  his. 

Andrea)  Lang* 


^ '  ^K^j^oy^^  o^,u^^/^ 


m 


from  a.  'Persian  <water-color  sketch* 


*i:  ^J-  ^"  ^^^^^  youth  these  three  'were  pupils  of  one  of  the  greatest 
'hise  men  of  Khorassan,  the  Imam  Mo^waffak  of  Naishapur. 
They  -were  all  endo<wed  <a)ith  sharpness  of  <wit  and  great  natural 
poRvers,  and  became  close  friends.  One  day  Hasan  said  to  his 
friends,  '*Ii  is  the  uni'versal  belief  that  the  pupils  of  Imam  l^ill 
attain  to  fortune.  Now,  e'ven  if  'aye  all  do  not  attain  thereto, 
^without  doubt  one  of  us  'will.  We  Tvill  make  a  'vom),  thai  to 
'whomsoe<ver  this  fortune  falls,  he  shall  share  it  equally  <wilh  the 
rest,  and  reser'be  no  pre-eminence  for  himself/*  In  the  years 
that  follo%fed  Nizam  became  Vizier  to  the  Sultan  Alp  Arslan, 
and  in  time  his  old  school  friends  found  him  oat  and  claimed  a 
share  in  his  good  fortune,  according  to  the  school-day  'vo<=w.  Hasan 
demanded  a  place  in  the  government  lt>hich  the  Sultan  granted  at 
the  Vizier 's  request.  Selfish  and  ungrateful  he  endea'vored  to  sup- 
plant his  benefactor  and^was  disgraced  and  banished.  Omar  asked 
for  neither  title  or  office,  and  simply  begged  to  be  allowed  to  lHye 
in  a  corner  under  the  shado%>  of  the  Vizier's  fortune,  'where  he 
might  spread  the  advantages  of  Science  and  pray  for  his  friend's 
^ong  life  and  prosperity.  The  Vizier  impressed  by  his  sincerity 
granted  him  a  yearly  pension,  and  the  old  Tent-Maker  gave  his 
fj  life  to  Science  and  Song. 


m 


SM^»^mm^^s^%^^  ^m: 


THE  RU5A1YAT  OF 
OMAR  KriAYYAM 

(J  THE  ASTRONOMER  POET  OF  PER5I4I 


...  RENDERED  INTO  ENaiSH  VERSE  BY 
^^^  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 


THE  TEXT  or  THE  fOURTH  EDITION  FOL- 
lOWED  BY  THAT  Of  THE  PIRST.WITH  f10T£5 
SHOWING  THE  EXTENT  OP  HIS  INOEBTED-I 
NESS  TO  THE  PERSIAN  ORIGINAL. 

A  BIOGRAPHICAL  PREFACE 
fITZCERALDB  SKETCH  Of  THE  llfE 
or  OMAR,  AND  A  FOREWORD  BY 

TALCOTr  WILLIAMS 


PHILADELPHIA 
ry J  FROM  THE  PUBLISHING  HOUSE  OF 
'^^  THE  JOHN  C.WINSTON  COMPANY 


Copyfight,  1898,  by 
HENRY  T.  COATES  &  CO. 


CONTENTS* 

Omai^— Fofc-Wofd  and  Forc-PIca.    By  Talcott  Vifliams.  .  x! 

To  E.  Fitzgcfald,    By  Alfred,  Lord  Tennyson xxv 

Biographical  Preface.    By  Michael  Kearney zzvii 

A  Rose -Tree  From  Omar's  Tomb.   By  Edmund  Gosse  .   .  xliii 

Omar  Khayyam's  Grave.    By  William  Simpson xlv 

Omar  Khayyam*    By  Graham  R.  Tomson liil 

Omar   Khayyam,    the   Astronomer-Poet    of   Persia*    By 

Edward  Fitzgerald hr 

Rubaiyat  of  Omar  Khayyam.    Fourth  Edition ) 

Rubaiyat  of  Omar  Khayyam.    First  Edition 27 

Notes 49 

Notes  by  the  Editor 59 


"^ 


**StiItan  and  Slave  alike  have  gone  their  way 
With  Bahram  Gttr,  but  whither  none  may  say. 
Yet  he  who  charmed  the  wise  at  Naishapur 
Seven  centuries  since,  still  charms  the  wise  to-day/' 

— Thomas  Bailey  Atdrich. 


OMAR— FORE-WORD  AND  FORE-PLEA. 

By  TALCOTT  WILLIAMS. 

HE  Persian  alone  of  Aryan  stock  has  lifted 
his  Iranic  forefin§fer  and  testified  to  one 
God  and  his  Prophet.  Fragments  of  Aryan 
nations  have  become  Mohammedan^  all 
alongf  the  Islamic  fringfe.  Nowhere  else  a  nation. 
"Why  the  Semitic  mind  reached  monotheism  centuries 
earlier  than  the  Aryan,  which  is  still  imperfectly  mono- 
theistic in  reIi§fious  theory  and  practice,  in  dogfma  and 
in  worship,  it  is  in  our  present  state  of  knowledge  impos- 
sible to  explain.  "We  cannot  even  say  certainly  whether 
Aryan  and  Semitic  are  convergent  or  divergent  stems 
of  the  human  root-stock — singular  or  plural  in  structure, 
who  shall  decide  ? 

We  know,  for  this  has  gone  on  in  the  visible  and 
recorded  day  of  history,  that  the  Aryan  races  tend  in 
their  day  of  trial  and  troubles  to  invent  a  new  God, 
and  the  Semitic  to  return  to  an  old  one.  Polytheism  is 
the  note  early  and  late  of  Europe,  until  it  learned 
monotheism  from  a  Semitic  prophet  whom  a  squad  of 
Aryan  soldiers — probably  Teuton,  which  is  to  say  of 
the  Aryan  future  and  advance — crucified.  By  nature, 
the  Semite  is  a  monotheist.     His  religious  impulses 


UKiViiiitSiX:^  Oi?  CAUFOKJSIa^  :^/:.„/,.j.r 


xH  FORE-WORD 


hctc  begfin  and  here  cndp  often  with  much  wandermgf 
between,  but  also  with  much  certainty.  Of  the  two 
world  religions  he  has  gfiven  humanity,  his  latter  pro- 
duct, Mohammedanism,  was  rejected  by  every  Aryan 
nation  other  than  the  Persian,  though  on  a  short-lived 
October  day  at  Tours  in  mid-France  it  once  seemed  as 
if  all  the  European  Arya  would  adopt  Islam*  It  did 
not,  and  the  history  of  literature  furnishes  but  one 
school  of  national  letters  in  which  the  particolored  Aryan 
imagination  and  inspiration  has  had  to  adjust  its  rosy 
dream  to  the  iron  bed  of  Semitic  monism* 

Omar  is  the  most  significant  product  of  this  conflict 
and  collision  between  the  bent  of  a  race  and  the  bending 
of  a  creed*  Islam  is  the  last  word  of  the  Semitic 
tendency.  For  the  pure  Semitic  races,  it  is  a  final  faith. 
There  is  a  sense  in  which  it  is  more  Hebraic  than  the 
Hebrew  conception  of  religion,  and  its  solitary  lapses  are 
due  to  the  rabbinical  properties  which  Mohammed  found 
flotsam  on  the  beach  where  the  Jewish  race  had  ship- 
wrecked, and  made  of  them  the  grotesque  salvage  of  his 
tent.  Remove  these  and  you  have  the  best  of  Israel^ 
minus  the  Messiah,  robed  in  an  Arab  austerity.  Fate 
and  the  Arab  lances  at  the  Battle  of  the  Bridges  drove 
this  creed  down  the  laughter-loving  throat  of  the  Per- 
sian. He  lives  in  the  Orient.  He  is  not,  any  more  than 
is  the  Japanese,  in  the  proper  sense  of  the  word,  an 
Oriental.  Any  one  of  us  with  Asiatic  acquaintance, 
early  learns  that  he  can  reach  a  contact  with  Persians^ 
can  enjoy  intimate  relations  and  a  personal  sympathy 


FORE.  WORD  xiix 


as  he  cannot  with  other  Mohammedans  or  theit  mote 
distant  neighbors*  The  European  diplomatic  repre- 
sentatives at  Teheran  come  away  with  friendships  such 
as  they  gain  nowhere  else  from  Fez  to  Pekin*  Race  h& 
more  than  faith.  The  Aryan  Mohammedan  h.^  still 
Aryan  rather  than  Mohammedan^  close  as  is  the  grip 
of  that  vice-like  creed  which  h^  alone  among  faiths  in 
presenting  no  race  which  having  adopted  has  aban- 
doned* Shut  in  by  Moslem  lands^  the  open  and  arid 
gate  through  which  the  Central  Asiatic  horde  has  poured 
for  loot  on  the  twin  river  valleys,  the  Euphrates  and  the 
Nile,  and  the  Levant  beyond,  as  rich — the  Persian  \^ 
perforce  Mohammedan,  but  he  has  worn  his  rue — bitter 
he  has  found  it — with  a  difference,  and  invented  his  own 
special  heresy*  He  has  ^t.\\sz6,  his  incarnation  in  Ali* 
He  has  linked  the  Prophet  in  an  eternal  and  original 
relation  with  the  divine.  "Wine  'i^  his,  and  so  it  is  pictured 
art,  and  he  has  devised  an  ingenious  contract-marriage 
— which  combines  in  convenient  proportion  the  hetairic 
license  of  the  West  and  the  rigid  legal  formalism  in  mat- 
ters of  sex  of  the  East,  where  the  field  may  indeed  be 
wider,  but  the  fence  higher  and  more  impassable  than  in 
Western  society*  The  Mohammedan,  we  always  re- 
member, has  gained  much  in  legal  license*  We  always 
forget  how  much  he  has  foresworn  in  individual  initia- 
tive* He  has  his  preserve*  He  does  not  poach*  The 
few  men  I  have  known  who  have  tried  both  plans, 
prefer  the  Mohammedan*  A  restricted  polygamy  was 
to  them  more  seemly  than  monogamy  modified   by 


aav 


FORE- WORD 


prostitution*  The  Persian,  being  both  Aryan  and 
Mohammedan,  has  combined  both  plans,  and  enjoys  the 
unenviable  deep  of  igfnominy  that  both  the  East  and 
the  West  unite  in  his  sexual  detestation. 

The  youn§f  Persian  of  aspiration  and  ability  who 
finds  himself  environed  by  these  antinomies  of  race  and 
religion,  driven  one  way  by  his  creed  and  another  by  his 
character,  takes  refuge  in  becoming  Sufi.  Watered  by 
his  desires  rather  than  his  convictions,  the  dry  branch  of 
Semitic  monotheism  puts  forth  the  white  flower  of 
mysticism,  and  sets  in  that  strange  fruitage  which  is 
perpetually  reminding  us  that  under  all  skies  and  for 
both  sexes  religious  fervor  and  sexual  passion  may  be 
legal  tender  for  the  same  emotions,  the  twin  halves  of 
the  same  coin  which  bears,  as  some  ancient  pieces  do, 
on  one  side  the  altars  of  the  God  and  on  the  other  the 
symbol  of  lust.  By  creed,  the  young  Persian  must 
believe  in  one  God.  As  Sufi  he  sees  in  one  God  a  monism 
which  makes  all  the  universe  the  manifestation  of  the 
divine  unity.  Into  the  chilly  cup  of  the  formal  observ- 
ance of  the  Koran  he  pours  the  wine  of  life,  and  drinks 
to  all  creeds  alike,  treating  all  conduct  as  the  consecra- 
tion and  completion  of  self  in  the  diviner  enthusiasm  of 
nature.  He  may  withdraw  himself  from  the  outer 
world  and  ponder  alone  on  the  ineffable  unity  of  God 
to  which  after  long  travail  and  travel,  if  he  faint  not  in 
this  desert  of  self  with  its  mirages  of  sense,  a  man  may 
in  due  season  lose  himself  by  finding  God,  or,  since  God 
is  in  all  his  works,  and  nowhere  more  than  in  the  in- 


FORE-WORD  XV 


scrutabic  inspiration  of  sex  and  the  amazingf  intoxica- 
tion of  the  vine,  he  may  equally  lose  himself  in  these 
adorable  works  of  the  divine,  si§fn,  symbol  and  expres- 
sion of  those  deeper  processes  of  the  spirit  by  which 
the  imagfe  of  God  \s  implanted  in  the  receptive  and 
womblike  soul  and  man  is  lost  in  a  deep  and  divine 
intoxication  where  the  senses  reel  and  only  the  inner 
nature  lives,  conscious  or  unconscious*  If  human 
nature  were  6xviAz,^  and  differenced  into  the  exclusive 
logfical  categories  of  a  code  of  ethics,  and  had  no  ill 
habit  of  self-deception  or  dangerous  possibility  of  auto- 
temptation,  our  young  Persian  would  be  one  kind  of 
Sufi  or  the  other*  He  would  run  with  the  hare  of 
aspiration  or  hunt  with  the  hounds  of  sensual  desire. 
Instead,  he  generally  does  both.  Often,  beginning  with 
restraint  in  youth,  and  as  years  come  and  the  experience 
of  life  tells  age  what  youth  missed,  he  redresses  the 
absent  follies  of  youth  by  the  more  abundant  folly  of 
age.  The  flitting  forties  as  they  fade  into  the  fifties  are 
fruitful  in  all  lands  of  such  fate.  Oscillating  easily, 
early  or  later  or  both,  between  spirit  and  sense,  the 
Persian  swings  like  a  pendulum  from  sensual  desire  to 
spiritual  ecstasy,  and  the  dial  face  of  his  literature  records 
both  beats  impartially.  Of  most,  perhaps  all,  Persian 
Sufi  verse  it  is  impossible  to  say  authoritatively  in  which 
mood  it  was  conceived  or  whether  a  carnal  or  spiritual 
conjugation  %\iv^6,  the  paradigm  of  amo* 

Many  dull  men  and  some  men  of  genious  have 
written  verse  under  this  dual  inspiration.    Little  of  it 


XVI 


FORE- WORD 


interests^  save  in  its  original  Persian*  These  lower 
jungles  of  native  and  overgrown  verse,  when  a  path  has 
been  cleared  through  them  by  translation,  seem  dull  in 
all  tongues  but  their  own*  The  peaks  alone  are  always 
-visMc  in  all  latitudes,  catch  the  same  sunlight  and  bear 
the  same  flora*  They  are  few*  It  would  be  idle 
criticism  to  urge  the  astronomer-poet  of  Persia  as  one 
of  them.  His  Western  vogue — not  all  the  work  of  his 
translator — he  owes  to  causes  broader  and  more  general 
than  the  accident  of  a  happy  version  like  Fitzgerald^s. 
He  wrote  at  a  moment  fortunate  for  his  style,  his 
language  and  his  wide  acceptance*  The  great  experi- 
ment of  the  Caliphate  had  failed.  It  had  given  the 
Moslem  world  neither  authority  in  Religion  nor  security 
in  the  State*  A  century  before  Omar's  birth,  Mustakfi 
had  lost  the  last  remnant  of  civil  power  ajoyed  by  his 
predecessors.  The  Pope  rose  from  priest  to  sovereign. 
The  Caliph  sank  from  sovereign  to  priest*  The  short- 
lived peace  of  the  Abbassids  which  had  stretched  from 
the  Atlantic  to  the  Indus  ended  in  whelming  rack,  as 
complete  and  as  terrible  to  human  happiness  as  the 
more  tragic  and  more  visible  fate  of  the  Roman  rule* 

The  first  ferment  and  fission  which  split  the  crum- 
bling arch  of  empire  and  broke  it  into  wrangling  and 
waning  kingdoms  had  been  succeeded  at  Omar's  birth 
and  boyhood  by  that  secondary  irruption  of  the  savage 
which  in  all  dying  states  means  massacre  and  irretriev- 
able ruin*  The  Berber  of  the  South  Atlas  under  Yusuf 
Ben  Tashfin  was  riding  and  ravaging  from  the  Wad  Sus 


FOPE-WOPD  xvii 


to  Guadalquhrif .  Under  Arab  rulers,  the  Touaregf  horse 
of  the  Fatimids  was  spoiling:  the  longf  coast  of  the 
Mediterranean  from  the  site  of  Carthagfe  to  the  site  of 
Tyre,  and  endingf  for  centuries  a  commerce  which  had 
begun  with  the  dawn  of  history^  Over  his  own  land, 
successive  tides  of  invasion  had  swept  as  the  Northern 
steppe  hived  its  hideous  swarms  and  left  desolute 
through  all  the  years  that  have  passed  the  city-sprinkled 
plains  from  the  Oxus  to  the  iEgfean*  East  of  him,  the 
Pathan  mountaineers  had  begun  under  Mahmud  of 
Ghazni  that  descent  on  either  fertile  plain  which  has 
ended  so  often  in  the  sack  of  Delhi  or  the  ravage  of 
Khurasan*  Out  of  all  the  welter  the  strong  hand  of 
the  Seljuk  was  forming  the  outlines  of  the  vigorous 
rule  which  later  on  transformed  itself  into  the  wasting 
dominion  of  the  Turk*  Through  all  the  lands  that 
Omar  knew,  no  city  was  safe,  no  man  dwelt  secure 
and  no  delicate  woman  slept  unaware  of  the  hideous 
slavery  into  which  she  might  be  swept  on  the  morrow, 
tending  some  Tartar  campfire  as  a  little  later  women 
of  half  the  princely  stocks  of  Asia  dtud^cd  in  the 
hordes  of  Chingiz  or  slaved  in  the  tents  of  Timun 
The  wail  of  Augustine  and  the  plaint  of  Boethius  we 
know  under  like  conditions,  and  after  half  a  millennium 
of  long  rapine  and  ravage  as  we  pass  the  cloisters  of 
Cluny,  when  all  the  Roman  world  was  long  since  waste 
and  its  brief  successor  in  the  West  had  left  only  failure, 
there  sounds  the  wide  lament,  '^Hora  novissima,  tem- 
pora  pessima  sunt,  vigilemus^  as  men  painfully  adapt 


xviii  FORE- WORD 


themselves  to  new  ideals  of  the  State  and  seek  celestial 
consolation* 

A  century  earlier^  the  Moslem  world  of  Khurasan 
was  facingf  like  failure  in  the  Eastern  successor  of 
stable  Rome,  and^  sunk  in  the  infinite  and  irremediable 
misery  of  the  hot  ashes  of  successive  savagfe  eruptions, 
was  adjustingf  its  theories  of  the  past,  its  sufferingfs  in 
the  present  and  its  hopes  of  the  future  to  the  shattered 
fragments  of  brutal  rule  which  brougfht  despotic  and  pre- 
carious protection*  Some  men,  like  the  school-fellow 
of  Omar,  Hasan,  fled  in  a  despair  akin  to  insanity  to 
desolate  mountain  valleys,  once  peopled,  and  tempered 
despotism  with  a  remedy  so  stran§fe  and  new  to  the 
world  that  men  in  all  tongues  East  and  West  could 
but  give  it  the  name  of  its  inventor.  Like  another 
school-mate  to  whom  the  poet  owed  his  honorable  sup- 
port, others  sought  service  with  whatever  strong-armed 
ruler  had  the  wit  and  will  to  commute  plunder  into 
taxation,  a  process  sometimes  reversed  in  our  own  day 
and  land*  Men  such  as  Omar,  could  but  seek,  as 
Plato  once  advised,  some  convenient  door-way  during 
the  pitiless  rain  and  watch  like  a  spectator  the  misery 
of  passing  humanity  in  the  world's  open  street  swept 
by  the  storm  of  war* 

His  language  was  ready  to  his  hand*  Firdausi  had 
given  it  epic  dignity,  conscious  expression  and  metric 
form.  Persian  stood  in  Omar's  day,  if  one  may  com- 
pare great  things  with  less,  where  Simonides  found  his 
tongue  when  he  turned  to  epigram  and  raised  the  Greek 


FORE-WORD  XIX 


analogfue  of  the  Persian  quatrain  to  its  higfhest  and  most 
austere  level  of  unapproachable  perfection*  If  Persia 
had  had  its  first  gfreat  epic  poet,  the  descent  and  decline 
of  its  poetry  had  not  yet  begfun.  It  was  not  as  yet 
smothered  under  its  own  riches,  its  muse  overwhelmed 
by  a  Tarpeian  gift  of  metaphor,  betrayin§f  the  virgin 
citadel  of  style  to  win  the  treacherous  prize  of  popular 
praise*  The  tent-maker's  son  found  it  an  instrument 
still  simple,  strong  and  dignified,  and  he  brought  to  the 
repressed  expression  of  his  day  a  nature  more  akin  to 
the  "West  than  to  the  East*  Of  the  events  of  his  life, 
we  know  little*  Of  the  character  and  cast  of  his  mind, 
we  know  much.  Fortune  gave  him  the  happy  fate 
that  while  the  day  of  his  birth  is  forgotten,  the  birth  of 
his  works  is  remembered.  He  combined  the  imagina- 
tion of  the  mathematician  and  the  patience  of  the 
computer*  The  specious  axioms  of  Euclid  could  not 
deceive  him  and  he  anticipated  the  challenge  of  six 
succeeding  centuries  by  perceiving  the  limitations  and 
assumptions  in  the  definitions  of  the  great  Alexandrian* 
The  dominical  labor  of  astronomical  tables  did  not 
daunt  him*  His  adjustment  of  the  calendar  was  more 
accurate  than  that  of  Clavius  after  four  hundred  years 
of  added  knowledge*  The  Tarikh  a  Jallili  opens  the 
way  to  less  error  than  the  correction  of  Gregory  in  the 
calendar  of  Caesar,  an  accuracy  which  the  Persian 
observer  shares  with  the  Maya  star-gazers  of  Yucatan* 
This  singular  endowment  of  original  imagination,  of 
freedom  from  the  trammels  of  authority  and  stem 


XX  FORE-WORD 

resolution  to  submit  to  the  slavery  of  slow  toil,  suffuses 
his  quatrains.  He  spoke  because  he  had  thoug^ht,  had 
achieved  and  had  endured.  This  gave  substance  to 
his  verse,  dignity  to  his  style  and  character  to  his 
utterance. 

The  precise  form  in  which  he  expressed  his  protest 
at  a  creed  alien  to  his  race  and  native  to  his  birth,  baffles 
translation,  as  all  such  expression  must.  The  simplicity 
of  his  verse  reflects  the  simplicity  of  his  life.  Thought 
h  simple.  Its  expression  becomes  complex  as  life  grows 
complicated.  In  this,  letters  and  man  move  together. 
With  what  an  apparatus  do  we  envelope  our  days,  and 
what  a  lengthening  coil  of  conveniences  do  we  drag 
through  the  gathering  years!  There  probably  never 
was  a  time  when  all  Omar^s  bed,  he.66in^  and  ward- 
robe, the  books  of  his  studies  and  the  tools  of  his  trade, 
cross-staff  and  perchance  some  early  predecessors  of  the 
astrolabe,  were  not  easily  packed  away  in  a  single  one 
of  the  small  closets  in  the  thick  walls  of  a  Persian 
home.  A  single  mule  load,  and  himself  above,  was  all 
he  needed  and  asked  for  travel.  A  porter  with  his  knot 
could  always  have  moved  all  the  possessions  of  the 
observer  and  poet.  His  pleasuring  was  in  the  open 
court,  where  water  rippled  into  the  square  pool  as  he 
sat  on  one  side,  with  no  furniture  for  his  dinner  but  a  rug 
to  sit  upon  and  a  dish  to  eat  from,  and  on  the  other 
brink,  before  him,  the  lute-player  twanged,  and  the 
cypress-waisted  girl,  her  breasts  rounded  beneath  the 
thin  silk  of  Mosul,  bent  and  turned  and  swayed,  her 


FORE- WORD 


XXI 


bare  feet  pressing:  the  patterned  and  particolored  prayer- 
rtt§f  on  which^  as  the  muzzein  sounded^  Omar  was  bent 
in  prayer  in  the  words  of  the  Rikat  and  the  spirit  of 
universal  worship.  Afield,  we  yearn  for  all  that  a 
house  can  hold,  and  the  commissariat  of  a  picnic  taxes 
and  tests  the  manifold  orgfanization  of  a  modern 
market  and  draws  for  its  prepared  foods  on  the  last 
triumph  of  science  and  the  last  adaptation  of  glass  and 
metal  to  the  preservation  of  the  fruits  of  every  clime* 
But  Omar — wiser  or  less  wise,  who  shall  say  ? — walked 
abroad  to  the  gardens  about  Naishapur,  whose  stream- 
ing irrigation  differenced  them  from  the  parched  and 
barren  wastes  beyond,  and  so  there  was  an  open  arch 
out  of  whose  cool  and  inner  recess  a  fountain  welled, 
with  maidenVhair  thick  about  and  shade  over  the  cut- 
stone  runlet  in  which  grapes  lay  cooling  and  the  wine- 
jar  was  set,  and  in  the  pouched  waist  of  his  zeboon  a 
brown  loaf  or  two — **  't  were  Paradise  enoV — when 
some  girl  stood  in  the  moving  shade  of  the  spreading 
walnut-tree,  her  arms  swaying  and  the  undulations  of 
passion  passing  over  all  her  form  as  the  sea  swells  in 
calm  nights  when  storms  have  been  and  are  to  be. 

If  life  be  as  simple  as  its  passions,  and  the  astron- 
omer himself  have  naught  between  his  eye  and  the 
stars  but  the  clear  air,  and  between  man  and  maid  there 
be  naught  but  desire,  the  expression  of  the  poet  will 
center  to  the  antinomy  of  his  race  and  age,  and  the 
boundaries  of  being  will  limit  his  vision.  None  else 
will  he  see,  and  for  none  else  do  men  at  the  last  yearn* 


TCTCII 


FORE- WORD 


Christianity^  like  an  indefinite  decimal^  whose  ultimate 
end  and  analysis  lie  in  the  infinite,  is  always  approx- 
imatingf  to  monotheism  without  ever  quite  reaching^  it* 
When  men  do,  they  are  near  Omar,  for  this  sensitive 
Aryan  poet — sensitive,  Aryan,  and  a  poet — which  is 
to  express,  had  passed  through  the  furnace  of  a  mon- 
istic faith  and  had  come  out  annealed  and  an  agnostic* 
The  rapid  succession  of  Islam,  like  some  short-lived 
plant  which  blooms  and  blasts  in  thin  soil,  had  run  its 
cycle  more  swiftly  than  its  opposing  faith*  In  a  cen- 
tury its  creed  was  fixed*  In  two  it  had  its  revival  of 
Greek  learning*  In  three  or  four,  its  science  had  sphered 
its  full  round  of  discovery*  Its  day  was  done*  There 
remained  hut  the  sterile  sword  of  Seljuk  and  Turk* 
As  it  was  first  unsheathed,  Omar  came*  The  micro- 
cosm of  Islam  held  in  small  all  that  was  to  unfold  at 
large  in  the  macrocosm  of  Christianity*  He  knew  how 
little  a  creed  could  do  when  knowledge  had  outrun  faith* 
He  saw  how  strong  grow  the  claims  of  sense  when 
science  is  the  sole  stay  of  conduct,  for  the  visible  facts 
of  life  are  of  the  flesh*  The  nice  subtlety  of  theolog- 
ical explanation  he  had  weighed  and  found  wanting* 
He  had  learned  how  barren  are  mere  morals*  He  had 
felt  how  full  is  the  universe  to  the  soul,  and  how  empty 
to  the  thinker  or  the  theologian*  These  all  were  as 
plain  at  Naishapur  in  the  eleventh  century  as  in  the 
new  world  in  the  nineteenth*  The  tide  of  every  faith, 
as  it  ebbs,  leaves  exposed  the  same  barren  sands  of 
doubt,  and  on  them,  whether  Marcus  write  in  Rome^ 


FORE- WORD 


XXiU 


Of  Omar  in  Naishapiif ,  the  same  sentence  appears,  and 
we  read  the  same  meanmgf.  Not  every  breeze  has  its 
harp,  and  not  every  beach  its  poet.  Many  faiths  ebb, 
and  have  neither  Marcus  nor  Omar.  But  what  Omar 
wrote,  many  wrote.  So  universal  is  his  message  that 
of  his  quatrains  scores  are  dubious,  and  no  man  can 
separate  true  from  false,  or  establish  a  canon  of  author- 
ship. He  wrote  what  all  men  feel.  All  men  feel  what 
he  wrote.  The  Oriental,  wise  above  what  is  written, 
cares  much  for  the  messa8:e  and  little  for  the  messen- 
ger. Since  it  be  worth  reading,  of  what  moment  is  it 
who  wrote?  For  us,  there  must  needs  be  the  more 
complex  meaning  and  music  of  his  translator ;  but  the 
original  center  of  attraction,  the  final  cause  of  sym- 
pathy, which  has  suddenly  made  Omar's  name  a  house- 
hold word  in  every  Western  home  of  the  Muses,  lies 
deeper  than  verse  or  meaning,  utterance  or  desire. 
Brothers  by  race  and  alien  by  creed,  here  too  is  another, 
who  has  known,  as  we  have  known,  the  shock  and 
contrast  between  the  Semitic  sense  for  morals  and  the 
Aryan  sense  for  beauty,  and  so  feeling  is  of  one  kin- 
dred, though  seas  divide  and  tongues  separate* 


^ 


TO  E.  FITZGERALD* 

Old  Fitz,  who  from  your  suburb  gfrangfc^ 

"Where  once  I  tarried  for  a  while, 
Glance  at  the  wheeling;  orb  of  change. 

And  greet  it  with  a  kindly  smile; 
Whom  yet  I  see  as  there  you  sit 

Beneath  your  sheltering  garden-tree. 
And  while  your  doves  about  you  flit. 

And  plant  on  shoulder,  hand  and  knee. 
Or  on  your  head  their  rosy  feet. 

As  if  they  knew  your  diet  spares 
Whatever  moved  in  that  full  sheet 

Let  down  to  Peter  at  his  prayers ; 
Who  live  on  milk  and  meal  and  grass: 

And  once  for  ten  long  weeks  I  tried 
Your  table  of  Pythagoras, 

And  seem'd  at  first  **  a  thing  enskied  ^ 
(As  Shakespeare  has  it)  airy-light 

To  float  above  the  ways  of  men. 
Then  fell  from  half-spiritual  height 

Chill'd,  till  I  tasted  flesh  again 
One  night  when  earth  was  winter-black. 

And  all  the  heavens  f lashM  in  frost ; 
And  on  me,  half-asleep,  came  back 

That  wholesome  heat  the  blood  had  lost, 
And  set  me  climbing  icy  capes 

And  glaciers,  over  which  there  rolled 
To  meet  me  long-arm'd  vines  with  grapes 


Of  Eshcol  hugfcncss ;  for  the  cold 
"Withotit,  and  warmth  within  me,  wrought 

To  mould  the  dream ;  but  none  can  say 
That  Lenten  fare  makes  Lenten  thought, 

Who  reads  your  golden  Eastern  lay. 
Than  which  I  know  no  version  done 

In  English  more  divinely  well ; 
A  planet  equal  to  the  sun 

Which  cast  it,  that  large  infidel 
Your  Omar ;  and  your  Omar  drew 

Full-handed  plaudits  from  our  best 
In  modem  letters,  and  from  two, 

Old  friends  outvaluing  all  the  rest. 
Two  voices  heard  on  earth  no  more ; 

But  we  old  friends  are  still  alive. 
And  I  am  nearing  seventy-four. 

While  you  have  touched  at  seventy-five. 
And  so  I  send  a  birthday  line 

Of  greeting ;  and  my  son  who  dipt 
In  some  forgotten  book  of  mine 

With  sallow  scraps  of  manuscript. 
And  dating  many  a  year  ago. 

Has  hit  on  this,  which  you  will  take. 
My  FstZf  and  welcome,  as  I  know. 

Less  for  its  own  than  for  the  sake 
Of  one  recalling  gracious  times. 

When,  in  our  younger  London  days, 
You  found  some  merit  in  my  rhymes. 

And  I  more  pleasure  in  your  praise* 

Alfred,  Lord  Tennysoru 
xxvi 


BIOGRAPHICAL  PREFACE. 


DWARD  FITZGERALD,  whom  the  world 
has  eAtc&dy  learned,  in  spite  of  his  own 
efforts  to  remain  within  the  shadow  of 
anonymity,  to  look  upon  as  one  of  the 
rarest  poets  of  the  century,  was  bom  at  Bredfield,  in 
Suffolk,  on  the  3tst  March,  J809.  He  was  the  third 
son  of  John  Purcell,  of  Kilkenny,  in  Ireland,  who, 
marryingf  Miss  Mary  Frances  Fitzgferald,  daughter  of 
John  Fitzgerald,  of  Williamstown,  County  Waterford, 
added  that  distinguished  name  to  his  own  patronymic ; 
and  the  future  Omar  was  thus  doubly  of  Irish  extrac- 
tion* (Both  the  families  of  Purcell  and  Fitzgerald 
claim  descent  from  Norman  warriors  of  the  eleventh 
century.)  This  circumstance  is  thought  to  have  had 
some  influence  in  attracting  him  to  the  study  of  Persian 
poetry,  Iran  and  Erin  being  almost  convertible  terms 
in  the  early  days  of  modern  ethnology.  After  some 
years  of  primary  education  at  the  grammar  school  of 
Bury  St*  Edmunds,  he  entered  Trinity  College,  Cam- 
bridge, in  J  826,  and  there  formed  acquaintance  with 
several  young  men  of  great  abilities,  most  of  whom 
rose  to  distinction  before  him,  but   never  ceased  to 

xxvU 


xxviii  BIOGRAPHICAL  PREFACE 


tegfard  with  affectionate  remembrance  the  quiet  and 
amiable  associate  of  their  collegfe-days^  Amongst  them 
were  Alfred  Tennyson,  James  Speddingf,  "William  Bod- 
ham  Donnet  John  Mitchell  Kemble,  and  William 
Makepeace  Thackeray;  and  their  long;  friendship  has 
been  touchingly  referred  to  by  the  Laureate  in  dcdi- 
catingf  his  last  poem  to  the  memory  of  Edward  Fitz- 
gferald*  ^'Euphranor,^  our  author's  earliest  printed 
work,  affords  a  curious  picture  of  his  academic  life 
and  associations*  Its  substantial  reality  h  evident 
beneath  the  thin  disgfuise  of  the  symbolical  or  classical 
names  which  he  gives  to  the  personages  of  the  col- 
loquy; and  the  speeches  which  he  puts  into  his  own 
mouth  are  full  of  the  humorous  gravity,  the  whimsical 
and  kindly  philosophy,  which  remained  his  distin- 
guishing characteristics  till  the  end*  This  book  was 
first  published  in  t85l;  a  second  and  a  third  edition 
were  printed  some  years  later;  all  anonymous,  and 
each  of  the  latter  two  differing  from  its  predecessor  by 
changes  in  the  text  which  were  not  indicated  on  the 
title-pages* 

'^Euphranor^  furnishes  a  good  many  character- 
izations which  would  be  useful  for  any  writer  treating 
upon  Cambridge  society  in  the  third  decade  of  this 
century*  Kenelm  Digby,  the  author  of  the  ^Broad- 
stone  of  Honour,^  had  left  Cambridge  before  the  time 
when  Euphranor  held  his  ^'dialogue,''  but  he  i&  pic- 
turesquely recollected  as  ''a  grand  swarthy  fellow  who 
might  have  stepped  out  of  the  canvas  of  some  knightly 


BIOGRAPHICAL  PREFACE 


XXIX 


portrait  in  his  father's  hall — perhaps  the  livingf  imagfe 
of  one  sleeping  under  some  cross-legged  effigies  in  the 
church.^  In  ^'Euphranor^  it  is  easy  to  discover  the 
earliest  phase  of  the  unconquerable  attachment  which 
Fitzgerald  entertained  for  his  college,  and  his  life-long 
friends,  and  which  induced  him  in  later  days  to  make 
frequent  visits  to  Cambridge,  renewing  and  refreshing 
the  old  ties  of  custom  and  friendship*  In  fact,  his 
disposition  was  affectionate  to  a  fault,  and  he  betrayed 
his  consciousness  of  weakness  in  that  respect  by  refer- 
ring playfully  at  times  to  '^a  certain  natural  lubricity^ 
which  he  attributed  to  the  Irish  character,  and  professed 
to  discover  especially  in  himself*  This  amiability  of 
temper  endeared  him  to  many  friends  of  totally  dis- 
similar tastes  and  qualities;  and,  by  enlarging  his 
sympathies,  enabled  him  to  enjoy  the  fructifying 
influence  of  studies  pursued  in  communion  with  schol- 
ars more  profound  than  himself,  but  less  gifted  with  the 
power  of  expression.  One  of  the  younger  Cambridge 
men  with  whom  he  became  intimate  during  his 
periodical  pilgrimages  to  the  university  was  Edward 
B*  Cowell,  a  man  of  the  highest  attainment  in  Oriental 
learning,  who  resembled  Fitzgerald  himself  in  the 
possession  of  a  warm  and  genial  heart,  and  the  most 
unobtrusive  modesty.  From  Cowell  he  could  easily 
learn  that  the  hypothetical  affinity  between  the  names 
of  Erin  and  Iran  belong  to  an  obsolete  stage  of 
etymology ;  but  the  attraction  of  a  far-fetched  theory 
was  replaced  by  the  charm  of  reading  Persian  poetry 


BIOGRAPHICAL  PREFACE 


in  companionship  with  his  youngf  friend,  who  was 
equally  competent  to  enjoy  and  to  analyze  the  beauties 
of  a  literature  that  formed  a  portion  of  his  regfular 
studies*  They  read  together  the  poetical  remains  of 
Khayyam — a  choice  of  readingf  which  sufficiently  indi- 
cates the  depth  and  rangfe  of  Mr»  Cowell^s  knowledgfe* 
Omar  Khayyam,  althougfh  not  quite  f orgfotten,  enjoyed 
in  the  history  of  Persian  literature  a  celebrity  like  that 
of  Occleve  and  Gower  in  our  own*  In  the  many 
Tazkirai  (memoirs  or  memorials)  of  poets  he  was 
mentioned  and  quoted  with  esteem;  but  Iiis  poems, 
laboring;  as  they  did  under  the  orig:inal  sin  of  heresy 
and  atheism,  were  seldom  looked  at,  and  from  lack  of 
demand  on  the  part  of  readers  had  become  rarer  than 
those  of  most  other  writers  since  the  days  of  Firdausi* 
European  scholars  knew  little  of  his  works  beyond  his 
Arabic  treatise  on  Algfebra,  and  Mr*  Cowell  may  be 
said  to  have  disentombed  fiis  poems  from  oblivion* 
Now,  thanks  to  the  fine  taste  of  that  scholar,  and  to 
the  transmuting:  gfenius  of  Fitzgerald,  no  Persian  poet 
is  so  well  known  in  the  western  world  as  Abu-'I-fat^ 
^Omar,  son  of  Ibranim  the  Tent-maker  of  Naishapur, 
whose  manhood  synchronizes  with  the  Norman  con- 
quest of  England,  and  who  took  for  his  poetic  name 
(iakhallus)  the  designation  of  his  father's  trade  {Khay- 
yam)* The  Rubaiyyai  (Quatrains)  do  not  comprise  a 
single  poem  divided  into  a  certain  number  of  stanzas ; 
there  \s  no  continuity  of  plan  in  them,  and  each  stanza 
is  a  distinct  thought  expressed  in  musical  verse*    There 


BIOGRAPHICAL  PREFACE 


XXXI 


is  no  other  dement  of  unity  in  them  than  the  gfeneral 
tendency  of  the  Epicurean  idea^  and  the  arbitrary 
divan  form  by  which  they  are  grouped  according^  to 
the  alphabetical  arrangfement  of  the  final  letters ;  those 
in  which  the  rhymes  end  in  a  constituting^  the  first 
division^  those  with  h  the  second,  and  so  on*  The 
peculiar  attitude  towards  religfion  and  the  old  questions 
of  fate,  immortality,  the  origin  and  the  destiny  of  man, 
which  educated  thinkers  have  assumed  in  the  present 
ag;e  of  Christendom,  is  found  admirably  foreshadowed 
in  the  fantastic  verses  of  Khayyam,  who  was  no  more 
of  a  Mohammedan  than  many  of  our  best  writers  are 
Christians.  His  philosophical  and  Horatian  fancies — 
gfraced  as  they  are  by  the  charms  of  a  lyrical  expression 
equal  to  that  of  Horace,  and  a  vivid  brilliance  of 
imagfinatxon  to  which  the  Roman  poet  could  make  no 
claim — exercised  a  powerful  influence  upon  Fitz- 
gerald^s  mind,  and  colored  his  thougfhts  to  such  a 
degree  that  even  when  he  oversteps  the  larg:cst  license 
allowed  to  a  translator,  his  phrases  reproduce  the  spirit 
and  manner  of  his  origfinal  with  a  nearer  approach  to 
perfection  than  would  appear  possible.  It  is  usually 
supposed  that  there  is  more  of  Fitzgerald  than  of 
Khayyam  in  the  English  Rabatyyaif  and  that  the  old 
Persian  simply  afforded  themes  for  the  Anglo-Irish- 
man's display  of  poetic  power;  but  nothing  could  be 
further  from  the  truth.  The  French  translator,  J.  B. 
Nicolas,  and  the  English  one,  Mr.  Whinfield,  supply 
a  closer  mechanical  reflection  of  the  sense  in  each 


XKxii  BIOGRAPHICAL  PREFACE 


separate  stanza^  but  Mn  Fitzgerald  has^  in  some 
instances^  given  a  version  equally  close  and  exact ; 
in  others,  rejointed  scattered  phrases  from  more  than 
one  stanza  of  his  original,  and  thus  accomplished  a 
feat  of  marvelous  poetical  transfusion^  He  frequently 
turns  literally  into  English  the  strange  outlandish 
imagery  which  Mn  Whinfield  thought  necessary  to 
replace  by  more  intelligible  banalities,  and  in  this  way 
the  magic  of  his  genius  has  successfully  transplanted 
into  the  garden  of  English  poesy  exotics  that  bloom 
like  native  f lowers* 

One  of  Mr*  Fitzgerald^s  Woodbridge  friends  was 
Bernard  Barton,  the  Quaker  poet,  with  whom  he 
maintained  for  many  years  the  most  intimate  and 
cordial  intercourse,  and  whose  daughter  Lucy  he  mar- 
ried* He  wrote  the  memoir  of  his  friend's  life  which 
appeared  in  the  posthumous  volume  of  Barton's  poems* 
The  story  of  his  married  life  was  a  short  one*  With 
all  the  overflowing  amiability  of  his  nature,  there 
were  mingled  certain  peculiarities  or  waywardnesses 
which  were  more  suitable  to  the  freedom  of  celibacy 
than  to  the  staidness  of  matrimonial  life*  A  separation 
took  place  by  mutual  agreement,  and  Fitzgerald  be- 
haved in  this  circumstance  with  the  generosity  and 
unselfishness  which  were  apparent  in  all  his  whims  no 
less  than  in  his  more  deliberate  actions*  Indeed,  his 
entire  career  was  marked  by  an  unchanging  goodness 
of  heart  and  a  genial  kindliness;  and  no  one  could 
complain  of  having  ever  endured  hurt  or  ill-treatment 


BIOGRAPHICAL  PREFACE  joam 

at  his  hands.  His  pleasures  were  innocent  and  simple* 
Amongst  the  more  deligfhtful,  he  counted  the  short 
coasting:  trips,  occupying:  no  more  than  a  day  or  two 
at  a  time,  which  he  used  to  make  in  his  own  yacht 
from  Lowestoft,  accompanied  only  by  a  crew  of  two 
men,  and  such  a  friend  as  Gjwell,  with  a  largfe  pasty 
and  a  few  bottles  of  wine  to  supply  their  material 
wants*  It  is  needless  to  say  that  books  were  also  put 
into  the  cabin,  and  that  the  symposia  of  the  friends 
were  thus  brig:htened  by  communion  with  the  minds 
of  the  gfreat  departed.  Fit2g:erald's  enjoyment  of 
gfnomic  wisdom  enshrined  in  words  of  exquisite  pro- 
priety was  evinced  by  the  frequency  with  which  he 
used  to  read  Montaigfne^s  essays  and  Madame  6c 
Sevig:ne^s  letters,  and  the  various  works  from  which  he 
extracted  and  published  his  collection  of  wise  saws 
entitled  **  Polonius.^  This  taste  was  allied  to  a  love 
for  what  was  classical  and  correct  in  literature,  by 
which  he  was  also  enabled  to  appreciate  the  prim  and 
formal  muse  of  Crabbe,  in  whose  gfrandson^s  house  he 
6it6* 

His  second  printed  work  was  the  ^Polonius,'* 
already  referred  to,  which  appeared  in  1852*  It  exem- 
plifies his  favorite  reading:,  being:  a  collection  of 
extracts,  sometimes  short  proverbial  phrases,  sometimes 
Iong:er  pieces  of  characterization  or  reflection,  arrang:ed 
tinder  abstract  heading:s.  He  occasionally  quotes  Dr. 
Johnson,  for  whom  he  entertained  sincere  admiration ; 
but  the  pondorous  and  artificial  fabric  of  Johnsonese 


xxxiv  BIOGRAPHICAL  PREFACE 


did  not  please  him  like  the  languagfe  of  Bacon,  Faflef, 
Sir  Thomas  Browne,  Coleridgfe,  whom  he  cites  fre- 
quently. A  disproportionate  abundance  of  wise  words 
was  drawn  from  Carlyle;  his  origfinal  views,  his  for- 
cible sense,  and  the  friendship  with  which  Fitzgerald 
regarded  him,  having  apparently  blinded  the  latter  to 
the  ungainly  style  and  ungraceful  mannerisms  of  the 
Chelsea  sagc^  (It  was  Thackeray  who  first  made 
them  personally  acquainted  forty  years  ago;  and 
Fitzgerald  remained  always  loyal  to  his  first  instincts 
of  affection  and  admiration.*)  Polonius  also  marks 
the  period  of  his  earliest  attention  to  Persian  studies, 
as  he  quotes  it  in  the  great  Sufi  poet  Jalal-ud-din-Rumi, 
whose  Masna^vi  has  lately  been  translated  into  English 
by  Mr.  Redhouse,  but  whom  Fitzgerald  can  only  have 
seen  in  the  originaL  He,  however,  spells  the  name 
Jathtadiiif  an  incorrect  form  of  which  he  could  not 
have  been  guilty  at  the  time  when  he  produced  Omar 
Khayyam,  and  which  thus  betrays  that  he  had  not 


*TIic  close  relation  that  subsisted  between  Fitzgerald  and 
Carlylc  has  lately  been  made  patent  by  an  article  in  the  Hisforicat 
Revie'W  upon  the  Squire  papers— those  celebrated  documents  pur- 
porting to  be  contemporary  records  of  Cromwell's  time — which 
were  accepted  by  Carlyle  as  genuine,  but  which  other  scholars 
have  asserted  from  internal  evidence  to  be  modem  forgeries. 
However  the  question  may  be  decided,  the  fact  which  concerns  us 
here  is  that  our  poet  was  the  negotiator  between  Mr.  Squire  and 
Carlyle,  and  that  his  correspondence  with  the  latter  upon  the  sub- 
ject reveals  the  intimate  nature  of  their  acquaintance. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  PREFACE 


ZZZY 


long:  been  cngfagfcd  with  Irani  literature*  He  was  very 
fond  of  Montaigfne^s  essays,  and  of  Pascal's  Pensees ; 
Imt  his  Polonius  reveals  a  sort  of  dhVikc.  and  contempt 
for  Voltaire*  Amongst  the  Germans,  Jean  Paul, 
Goethe,  Alexander  von  Humboldt,  and  Augfust  Wil- 
helm  von  Schlcgfel  attracted  him  greatly ;  but  he  seems 
to  have  read  little  German,  and  probably  only  quoted 
translations*  His  favorite  motto  was  ''Plain  Living 
and  High  Thinking,'^  and  he  expresses  great  reverence 
for  all  things  manly,  simple,  and  true*  The  laws  and 
institutions  of  England  were,  in  his  eyes,  of  the  highest 
value  and  sacredncss  ;  and  whatever  Irish  sympathies 
he  had  would  never  have  diverted  his  affections  from 
the  Union  to  Home  Rule*  This  is  strongly  illustrated 
by  some  original  lines  of  blank  verse  at  the  end  of 
Polonius,  annexed  to  his  quotation,  under  ''iEsthetics,** 
of  the  words  in  which  Lord  Palmerston  eulogized  Mr* 
Gladstone  for  having  devoted  his  Neapolitan  tour  to 
an  inspection  of  the  prisons* 

Fitzgerald's  next  printed  work  was  a  translation 
of  Six  Dramas  of  Calderon,  published  in  {853,  which 
was  unfavorably  received  at  the  time,  and  conse- 
quently withdrawn  by  him  from  circulation*  His 
name  appeared  on  the  title-page— a  concession  to 
publicity  which  was  so  unusual  with  him  that  it  must 
have  been  made  under  strong  pressure  from  his  friends* 
The  book  is  in  nervous  blank  verse,  a  mode  of  com- 
position which  he  handled  with  great  ease  and  skill* 
There  is  no  waste  of  power  in  diffuseness  and  no 


XXXVl 


BIOGRAPHICAL  PREFACE 


employment  of  unnecessary  epithets*  It  gives  the 
impression  of  a  work  of  the  Shakespearean  agfe,  and 
reveals  a  kindred  felicity,  strengfth,  and  directness  of 
langftiagfe*  It  deserves  to  rank  with  his  best  efforts  in 
poetry,  but  its  ill-success  made  him  feel  that  the  publi- 
cation of  his  name  was  an  unfavorable  experiment, 
and  he  never  again  repeated  it*  His  great  modesty, 
however,  would  sufficiently  account  for  this  shyness* 
Of  **  Omar  Khayyam,^  even  after  the  little  book  had 
won  its  way  to  general  esteem,  he  used  to  say  that  the 
suggested  addition  of  his  name  on  the  title  would 
imply  an  assumption  of  importance  which  he  con- 
sidered that  his  **  transmogrification  ^  of  the  Persian 
poet  did  not  possess* 

Fitzgerald^s  conception  of  a  translator's  privilege  is 
well  set  forth  in  the  prefaces  of  his  versions  from  Cal- 
deron,  and  the  Agamemnon  of  iEschylus*  He  main- 
tained that,  in  the  absence  of  the  perfect  poet,  who 
shall  re-create  in  his  own  language  the  body  and  soul 
of  his  original,  the  best  system  iz  that  of  a  paraphrase 
conserving  the  spirit  of  the  author — a  sort  of  literary 
metempsychosis*  Calderon,  ^Eschylus,  and  Omar 
Khayyam  were  all  treated  with  equal  license  so  far  as 
form  i&  concerned — the  last,  perhaps,  the  most  arbi- 
trarily ;  but  the  result  is  not  unsatisfactory,  as  having 
given  us  perfect  English  poems  instinct  with  the  true 
flavor  of  their  prototypes*  The  Persian  was  probably 
somewhat  more  Horatian  and  less  melancholy,  the 
Greek  a  little  less  florid  and  mystic,  the  Spaniard  more 


BIOGRAPHICAL  PREFACE 


XZZVIl 


lyrical  and  fluent^  than  their  metaphrast  has  made 
them  J  but  the  essential  spirit  has  not  escaped  in  trans- 
fusion* Only  a  man  of  singular  gifts  could  have  per- 
formed the  achievement^  and  these  works  attest  Mr* 
Fitzgerald's  right  to  rank  amongst  the  finest  poets  of 
the  century*  About  the  same  time  as  he  printed  his 
Calderon^  another  set  of  translations  from  the  same 
dramatist  was  published  by  the  late  D*  F*  MacCarthy^ 
a  scholar  whose  acquaintance  with  Castilian  literature 
was  much  deeper  than  Mr*  Fitzgerald^  and  who  also 
possessed  poetical  abilities  of  no  mean  order^  with  a 
totally  different  sense  of  the  translator's  duty*  The 
popularity  of  MacCarthy's  versions  has  been  consider- 
able, and  as  an  equivalent  rendering  of  the  original 
in  sense  and  form  his  work  is  valuable*  Spaniards 
familiar  with  the  English  language  rate  its  merit 
highly;  but  there  can  be  little  question  of  the  very 
great  superiority  of  Mr*  Fitzgerald's  work  as  a  con- 
tribution to  English  literature*  It  is  indeed  only  from 
this  point  of  view  that  we  should  regard  all  the  literary 
labors  of  our  author*  They  are  English  poetical 
work  of  fine  quality,  dashed  with  a  pleasant  out- 
landish flavor,  which  heightens  their  charm ;  and  it  is 
as  English  poems,  not  as  translations,  that  they  have 
endeared  themselves  even  more  to  the  American- 
English  than  to  the  mixed  Britons  of  England* 

It  was  an  occasion  of  no  small  moment  to  Mf« 
Fitzgerald's  fame,  and  to  the  intellectual  gratification 
of  many  thousands  of  readers,  when  he  took  his  little 


xxxviii  BIOGRAPHICAL  PREFACE 


packet  of  RubsLtyyai  to  Mn  Quaritch  in  the  latter  part 
of  the  year  (858*  It  was  printed  as  a  small  quarto 
pamphlet,  bearing:  the  publisher's  name,  but  not  the 
author's ;  and  althougfh  apparently  a  complete  failure 
at  first — 2l  failure  which  Mr»  Fitzg^erald  regfretted  less 
on  his  own  account  than  on  that  of  his  publisher,  to 
whom  he  had  g^enerously  made  a  present  of  the  book 
— received,  nevertheless,  a  sufficient  distribution  by 
beingf  quickly  reduced  from  the  price  of  five  shillings 
and  placed  in  the  box  of  cheap  books  marked  a  penny 
each*  Thus  forced  into  circulation,  the  two  hundred 
copies  which  had  been  printed  were  soon  exhausted* 
Among:  the  buyers  were  Dante  Gabriel  Rossetti,  Mr* 
Swinburne,  Captain  (now  Sir  Richard)  Burton,  and 
Mr*  William  Simpson,  the  accomplished  artist  of  the 
Ittusirated  London  Ne^s*  The  influence  exercised  by 
the  first  three,  especially  by  Rossetti,  upon  a  clique  of 
young:  men  who  have  since  g:rown  to  distinction,  was 
sufficient  to  attract  observation  to  the  sing:ular  beauties 
of  the  poem  anonymously  translated  from  the  Persian* 
Most  readers  had  no  possible  opportunity  of  discovering: 
whether  it  was  a  disguised  orig:inal  or  an  actual  trans- 
lation— even  Captain  Burton  enjoyed  probably  but 
little  chance  of  seeing:  a  manuscript  of  the  Persian 
Rubaiyyat.  The  Oriental  imag:ery  and  allusions  were 
too  thickly  scattered  throug:hout  the  verses  to  favor 
the  notion  that  they  could  be  the  orig:inal  work  of  an 
Eng:lishman;  yet  it  was  shrewdly  suspected  by  most 
of  the  appreciative  readers  that  the  ^translator''  was 


BIOGRAPHICAL  PREFACE 


substantially  the  author  and  creator  of  the  poena.  In 
the  refugfe  of  his  anonymity  Fitzgerald  dcrfvcd  an 
innocent  stratification  from  the  curiosity  that  was 
aroused  on  all  sides.  After  the  first  edition  had  disap- 
peared, inquiries  for  the  little  book  became  frequent, 
and  in  the  year  1868  he  gfave  the  MS,  of  his  second 
edition  to  Mr,  Quaritch,  and  the  Rubaiyyat  came  into 
circulation  once  more,  but  with  several  alterations  and 
additions,  by  which  the  number  of  stanzas  was  some- 
what increased  beyond  the  origfinal  seventy-five.  Most 
of  the  changfes  were,  as  might  have  been  expected, 
improvements ;  but  in  some  instances  the  author's  taste 
or  caprice  was  at  fault — notably  in  the  first  Rubaiy, 
His  fastidious  desire  to  avoid  anything  that  seemed 
baroque  or  unnatural,  or  appeared  like  plagiarism,  may 
have  influenced  him ;  but  it  was  probably  because  he 
had  already  used  the  idea  in  his  rend^sring  of  Jami's 
Salaman,  that  he  sacrificed  a  fine  and  novel  piece  of 
imagery  in  his  first  stanza  and  replaced  it  by  one  of 
much  more  ordinary  character.  If  it  were  from  a 
6hWiLZ  to  pervert  his  original  too  largely,  he  had  no 
need  to  be  so  scrupulous,  since  he  dealt  on  the  whole 
with  the  Rubaiyyat  as  though  he  had  the  license  of 
absolute  authorship,  changing,  transposing,  and  manip- 
ulating the  substance  of  the  Persian  quatrains  with 
singular  freedom.  The  vogue  of  **  Old  Omar  ^  (as  he 
would  affectionately  call  his  work)  went  on  increasing, 
and  American  readers  took  it  up  with  eagerness.  In 
those  days,  the  mere  mention  of   Omar  Khayyam 


iJ  BIOGRAPHICAL  PREFACE 

between  two  strangfers  meetingf  foftuitotssly  acted  like 
a  sigfn  of  freemasonry,  and  established  frequently  a  bond 
of  friendship*  Some  curious  instances  of  this  have 
been  related*  A  remarkable  feature  of  the  Omar-cult 
in  the  United  States  was  the  circumstance  that  singfle 
individuals  bougfht  numbers  of  copies  for  gratuitous 
distribution  before  the  book  was  reprinted  in  America* 
Its  editions  have  been  relatively  numerous,  when  we 
consider  how  restricted  was  the  circle  of  readers  who 
could  understand  the  peculiar  beauties  of  the  work* 
A  third  edition  appeared  in  {872,  with  some  further 
alterations,  and  may  be  regfarded  as  virtually  the 
author^s  final  revision,  for  it  hardly  differs  at  all  from 
the  text  of  the  fourth  edition,  which  appeared  in  1879. 
This  last  formed  the  first  portion  of  a  volume  entitled 
**  Rubaiyat  of  Omar  Khayyam ;  and  the  Salaman  and 
Absal  of  Jkmi;  tendered  into  Engflish  verse*^  The 
Salaman  (which  had  already  been  printed  in  separate 
form  in  J  856)  is  a  poem  chiefly  in  blank  verse,  inter- 
spersed with  various  metres  (althoug^h  it  is  all  in  one 
measure  in  the  origfinal),  embodying:  a  love-story  of 
mystic  sigfnif icance ;  for  Jami  was,  unlike  Omar  Khay- 
yam, a  true  Sufi,  and  indeed  differed  in  other  respects, 
his  celebrity  as  a  pious  Mussulman  doctor  beingf  equal 
to  his  fame  as  a  poet*  He  lived  in  the  fifteenth 
century,  in  a  period  of  literary  brilliance  and  decay; 
and  the  rich  exuberance  of  his  poetry,  full  of  far-fetched 
conceits,  involved  expressions,  overstrained  imagfery,  and 
false  taste,  offers  a  strong:  contrast  to  the  simpler  and 


BIOGRAPHICAL  PREFACE  ^11 


more  forcible  languagfc  of  Khayyam.  There  xs  Ihtic 
use  of  Arabic  in  the  C2it\ict  poet ;  he  preferred  the  ver- 
nacular speech  to  the  mongfrel  langfuagfe  which  was 
fashioned  among:  the  heirs  of  the  Saracen  conquerors ; 
but  Jami^s  composition  h  largely  embroidered  with 
Arabic 

Mr.  Fitzg^erald  had  from  his  early  days  been  thrown 
into  contact  with  the  Crabbe  family;  the  Reverend 
Georsfe  Crabbe  (the  poet's  gfrandson)  was  an  intimate 
friend  of  his,  and  it  was  on  a  visit  to  Morton  Rectory 
that  Fitzgerald  6it6*  As  we  know  that  friendship  has 
power  to  warp  the  judgment,  we  shall  not  probably  be 
wrong  in  supposing  that  his  enthusiastic  admiration  for 
Crabbers  poems  was  not  the  product  of  sound,  impartial 
criticism.  He  attempted  to  reintroduce  them  to  the 
world  by  publishing  a  little  volume  of  ''Readings  from 
Crabbe,'^  produced  in  the  last  year  of  his  life,  but  with- 
out success.  A  different  fate  awaited  his  ''Agamemnon : 
a  tragedy  taken  from  iEschylus,^  which  was  first 
printed  privately  by  him,  and  afterwards  published  with 
alterations  in  1876.  It  is  a  very  free  rendering  from 
the  Greek,  and  full  of  a  poetical  beauty  which  is  but 
partly  assignable  to  iCschylus.  "Without  attaining  to 
anything  like  the  celebrity  and  admiration  which  have 
followed  Omar  Khayyam,  the  Agamemnon  has 
achieved  much  more  than  a  succes  dUstime.  Mr.  Fitz- 
gerald's renderings  from  the  Greek  were  not  confined 
to  this  one  essay ;  he  also  translated  the  two  Oedipus 
dramas  of  Sophocles,  but  left  them  unfinished  in  manu- 


xIH  BIOGRAPHICAL  PREFACE 


script  till  Prof.  Eliot  Norton  had  a  sigfht  of  them  ahout 
seven  or  eight  years  agfo  and  urgfed  him  to  complete  his 
work*  When  this  was  done,  he  had  them  set  in  type; 
but  only  a  very  few  proofs  can  have  been  struck  off,  as 
it  seems  that,  at  least  in  England,  no  more  than  one  or 
two  copies  were  sent  out  by  the  authon  In  a  similar 
way  he  printed  translations  of  two  of  Calderon^s  plays 
not  included  in  the  published  "Six  Dramas** — namely, 
La  ^da  es  Sueno  and  Et  cMagico  ^rodigioso  (both 
ranking*  among  the  Spaniard's  finest  work);  but  they 
also  were  withheld  from  the  public  and  all  but  half  a 
dozen  friends* 

When  his  old  boatman  6k.df  about  ten  years  ago, 
he  abandoned  his  nautical  exercises,  and  gave  up  his 
yacht  for  ever*  During  the  last  few  years  of  his  life 
he  6i-vi6z6.  his  time  between  Cambridge,  Crabbers  house, 
and  his  own  home  at  Little  Grange,  near  "Woodbridge, 
where  he  received  occasional  visits  from  friends  and 
relatives. 

This  edition  of  the  "Omar  Khayyam**  t&  a 
modest  memorial  of  one  of  the  most  modest  men  who 
have  enriched  English  literature  with  poetry  of  distinct 
and  permanent  value*  His  best  epitaph  is  found  in 
Tennyson*s  "  Tiresias  and  other  poems,**  published  im- 
mediately after  our  author's  quiet  exit  from  life,  in 
1883,  in  the  seventy-fifth  year  of  his  age* 

M*K. 


A  ROSE-TREE  FROM  OMAR^S  TOMB. 

¥ 

77ie  c/lihenaeum  of  Octotcf  7  prints  the  following; 
^  Inscription^^  written  by  Mr*  Edmund  Gosse  for  the 
rose-tree  brougfht  by  Mr»  W*  Simpson  from  Omar 
Khayyam^s  tomb  and  planted  on  that  day  on  the  grave 
of  Edward  Fitzgerald  at  Boulget  Suffolk : — 

**  Reign  here^  triumphant  rose  from  Omar's  grave. 
Borne  by  a  fakir  o'er  the  Persian  wave  j 

Reign  with  fresh  pride^  since  here  a  heart  is  sleeping 
That  double  glory  to  your  Master  gave. 

**  Hither  let  many  a  pilgrim  step  be  bent 
To  greet  the  rose  re-risen  in  banishment  $ 

Here  richer  crimsons  may  its  cup  be  keeping 
Than  brimmed  it  ere  from  Naishapur  it  went.** 

Almost  ten  years  ago  an  Englishman  took  a  hand- 
ful of  hips  from  the  rose-trees  near  Omar*s  grave  at 
Naishapur — roses  planted,  as  one  of  his  pupils  records, 
in  obedience  to  the  poet's  wishes* 


silfi 


OMAR  KHAYYAKPS  GRAVE* 

¥ 

N  teference  to  the  allusion  quoted  from 
Nizami  (on  pagfe  Ix)  to  Omar  Khay- 
yam's prophecy  about  his  own  grave^  the 
following:  letter  from  Nishapur  will  have 
a  considerable  interest*  The  writer  is  a  man  of  wide 
reputation  as  one  of  the  traveling:  artists  of  the  Ulas^ 
iraied  London  cNs^s  : 

Nishapur,  27th  October,  J884. 
Dear  Mr*  Quaritch: 

From  the  association  of  your  name  with  that  of 
Omar  Khayam  I  feel  sure  that  what  I  enclose  in  this 
letter  will  be  acceptable*  The  rose-leaves  I  gfathered 
to-day,  gfrowingf  beside  the  tomb  of  the  poet  at  this 
place,  and  the  seeds  are  from  the  same  bushes  on  which 
the  leaves  gfrew.* 

I  suppose  you  are  aware  that  I  left  early  last 
month  with  Sit  Peter  Lumsden  to  accompany  the 

*  These  seeds  were  handed  over  to  Mr.  Baker,  of  Kew  Gar- 
densy  who  planted  them,  and  they  have  grown  tip  8ucccs8!tilly»  bat 
at  yet  they  have  not  produced  flowers* 

sir 


xlvl  O^^R  KHAYYAM'S  GRAVE 

Af  gfhan  Boundary-  Commission  In  my  old  capacity  as 
special  artist  for  the  Ittusirated  London  c^(e^s*  We 
traveled  by  way  of  the  Black  Sea^  Tiflis^  Baku^  and 
the  Caspian,  to  Teheran ;  from  that  place  we  have  been 
marching:  eastward  for  nearly  a  month  now^  and  we 
reached  Nishapur  this  momingf* 

For  some  days  past,  as  we  marched  alongf,  I  have 
been  making:  inquiries  regfardingf  Omar  Khayam  and 
Nishapur ;  I  wanted  to  know  if  the  house  he  lived  in 
still  existed,  or  if  any  spot  was  yet  associated  with  his 
name^  It  would  seem  that  the  only  recog:mzed  memo- 
rial now  remaining:  of  him  is  his  tomb*  Our  Mehman- 
dar,  or  *^  Guest-conductor  ^ — while  the  Af g:han  Bound- 
ary Commission  is  on  Persian  territory  it  is  the  guest 
of  the  Shah,  and  the  Mehmandar  is  his  representative, 
who  sees  that  all  our  wants  are  attended  to — appears  to 
be  familiar  with  the  poet's  name,  and  says  that  his 
works  are  still  read  and  admired*  The  Mehmandar 
said  he  knew  the  tomb,  and  promised  to  be  our  g:uide 
when  we  reached  Nishapur*  We  have  just  made  the 
pilg:rimag:e  to  the  spot ;  it  is  about  two  miles  south  of 
the  present  Nishapur ;  so  we  had  to  ride,  and  Sir  Peter, 
who  takes  an  interest  in  the  matter,  was  one  of  the 
party*  We  found  the  g:round  nearly  all  the  way  cov- 
ered with  mounds,  and  the  soil  mixed  with  frag:ments 
of  pottery,  sure  indications  of  former  habitations*  As 
we  neared  the  tomb,  long:  i*idg:es  of  earth  could  be  seen, 
which  were  no  doubt  the  remains  of  the  walls  of  the  old 
city  of  Nishapur*    To  the  east  of  the  tomb  is  a  larg:e 


OMAR  KHAYYAM'S  GRAVE  xlvii 


square  mound  of  earthy  which  is  supposed  to  be  the  site 
of  the  Ark,  or  citadel  of  the  original  city*  As  we  rode 
alongft  the  blue  dome,  which  the  Mehmandar  had 
pointed  out  on  the  way  as  the  tomb,  had  a  very  imposing^ 
appearance,  and  its  importance  improved  as  we  neared 
it;  this  will  be  better  understood  by  stating:  that  city 
walls,  houses,  and  almost  all  structures  in  that  part  of 
Persia  are  built  of  mud*  The  blue  dome,  as  well  as  its 
^zCf  produced  in  my  mind,  as  we  went  towards  it,  a 
great  satisfaction;  it  was  pleasing  to  think  that  the 
countrymen  of  Omar  Khayam  held  him  in  such  high 
estimation  as  to  erect  so  fine  a  monument,  as  well  as  to 
preserve  it — this  last  being  rarely  done  in  the  East — ^to 
his  memory*  If  the  poet  was  so  honored  in  his  own 
country,  it  was  little  to  be  wondered  at  that  his  fame 
should  have  spread  so  rapidly  in  the  lands  of  the  West* 
This  I  thought,  but  there  was  a  slight  disappointment 
in  store  for  me*  At  last  we  reached  the  tomb,  and 
found  its  general  arrangements  were  on  a  plan  I  was 
familiar  with  in  India ;  whoever  has  visited  the  Taj  at 
Agra,  or  any  of  the  large  Mohammedan  tombs  of 
Hindostan,  will  easily  understand  the  one  at  Nishapur* 
The  monument  stands  in  a  space  enclosed  by  a  mud 
wall,  and  the  ground  in  front  is  laid  out  as  a  garden, 
with  walks*  The  tomb  at  Nishapur,  with  all  its  sur- 
roundings, is  in  a  very  rude  condition ;  it  never  was  a 
work  which  could  claim  merit  for  its  architecture,  and 
although  it  is  kept  so  far  in  repair,  it  has  still  a  very- 
decayed  and  neglected  appearance*     Even  the  blue 


xlviii  OMAJ^  KHA  YYAm*S  GRA  VE 

domCf  which  impressed  me  m  the  distance^  I  founds  on 
getting  near  to  it^  was  in  a  ruinous  state  from  largfe 
portions  of  the  enameled  plaster  havingf  fallen  off* 
Instead  of  the  marble  and  the  red  stone  of  the  Taj  at 
Nishapur — ^with  the  exception  of  some  enameled  tiles 
producing  a  pattern  around  the  base  of  the  dome^  and 
also  in  the  spandrels  of  the  door  and  windows — there 
we  find  only  bricks  and  plaster*  The  surrounding^  wall 
of  the  enclosure  was  of  crumbling:  mud^  and  could  be 
easily  jumped  over  at  any  place*  There  is  a  rude 
entrance  by  which  we  went  in  and  walked  to  the  front 
of  the  tomb ;  all  along  I  had  been  under  the  notion  that 
the  whole  structure  was  the  tomb  of  Omar  Khayam ; 
and  now  came  the  disenchantment*  The  place  turned 
out  to  be  an  Imamzadah^  or  the  tomb  of  the  son  of  an 
Imam*  The  son  of  an  Imam  inherits  his  sanctity  from 
his  father,  and  his  place  of  burial  becomes  a  holy  place 
where  pilgrims  go  to  pray*  The  blue  dome  is  over  the 
tomb  of  such  a  person,  who  may  have  been  a  brute  of 
the  worst  kind — that  would  not  have  affected  his  sanc- 
tity— instead  of  the  poet,  whom  we  reverence  for  the 
qualities  which  belonged  to  himself*  When  we  had 
ascended  the  platform,  about  three  feet  high,  on  which 
the  tomb  stood,  the  Mehmandar  turned  to  the  left,  and 
in  a  recess  formed  by  three  arches  and  a  very  rude  roof, 
which  seemed  to  have  been  added  to  the  corner  of  the 
Imamzadah,  pointed  to  the  tomb  of  Omar  Khayam* 
The  discovery  of  a  ^Poefs  Corner^  at  Nishapur 
naturally  recalled  Westminster  Abbey  to  my  mind,  and 


OMAJR  KHA  YYAM'S  GRA  VE  xKx 

tzvbrcd  my  spirits  from  the  depression  produced  by- 
finding:  that  the  principal  tomb  was  not  that  of  the 
poet«  The  monument  over  the  tomb  h  an  oblongf 
mass  of  brick  covered  with  plaster^  and  without  orna- 
ment— the  plaster  falling:  off  in  places ;  on  this  and  on 
the  plaster  of  the  recess  are  innumerable  scribblingfs  in 
Persian  character*  Some  were,  no  doubt,  names,  for 
the  British  John  Smith  has  not  an  exclusive  tendency 
in  this  respect;  but  many  of  them  were  continued 
through  a  number  of  lines,  and  I  gfuessed  they  were 
poetry,  and  most  probably  quotations  from  the  Rubai- 
yat»  AIthou8:h  the  **  Poet^s  Comer  ^  was  in  rather  a 
dilapidated  state,  still  it  must  have  been  repaired  at  no 
very  distant  date ;  and  this  shows  that  some  attention 
has  been  paid  to  it,  and  that  the  people  of  Nishapur 
have  not  quite  forg^otten  Omar  Khayam. 

The  Imamzadah — this  word,  which  means  Son  of 
an  Imam,  applies  to  the  person  buried  as  well  as  to  the 
lomb — was  Mohammed  Marook,  brother  of  the  Imam 
Reza,  whose  tomb  at  Meshed  h  considered  so  sacred  by 
4he  Shias ;  the  Imam  Reza  was  the  eigfhth  Imam,  and 
-iicd  in  818;  this  gfives  us  an  approximate  date  for  his 
brother,  and  it  hf  if  I  mistake  not,  a  couple  of  centuries 
before  the  time  of  Omar  Khayam ;  and  the  Imamzadah 
— ^here  I  mean  the  building: — would  have  been  erected, 
most  probably,  about  that  number  of  years  before  the 
poet  required  his  resting:-place*  Behind  the  Imamzadah 
is  a  Kubberstan,  or  **  Reg:ion  of  Graves,^  and  the  raised 
platform  in  front  of  the  tomb  contains  in  its  toug:h 


I  OMAR  KHAYYAM'S  GRAVE 

pavement  a  §food  many  small  tomb-stones,  showing 
that  people  are  buried  there,  and  that  the  place  had 
been  in  the  past  a  general  grave-yard*  AH  this  is 
owing  to  the  hereditary  sanctity  which  belongs  to  the 
son  of  an  Imam,  and  we  are  perhaps  indebted  to  Mo- 
hammed Marook,  no  matter  what  his  character  may 
have  been,  for  the  preservation  of  the  site  of  Omar 
Khayam's  burial  place;  the  preservation  of  the  one 
necessarily  preserved  the  other* 

In  front  of  the  Imamzadah  is  the  garden,  with 
some  very  old  and  one  or  two  large  trees,  but  along  the 
edge  of  the  platform  in  front  of  Omar  Khayam's  tomb 
I  found  some  rose  bushes ;  it  was  too  late  in  the  season 
for  the  roses,  but  a  few  hips  were  still  remaining,  and 
one  or  two  of  these  I  secured,  as  well  as  the  leaves — 
some  of  which  are  here  enclosed  for  you*  I  hope  you 
will  be  able  to  grow  them  in  England ;  they  will  have 
an  interest,  as  in  all  probability  they  are  the  particular 
kind  of  roses  Omar  Khayam  was  so  fond  of  watchinjf 
as  he  pondered  and  composed  his  verses* 

It  may  be  worth  adding  that  there  is  also  at 
Nishapur  the  tomb  of  another  poet  who  lived  about 
the  same  time  as  Omar  Khayam — his  name  was  Ferid 
cd  din  Attar ;  according  to  Vambcry,  he  was  *^  a  great 
mystic  and  philosopher*  He  wrote  a  work  called 
^Mantik  et  Teyr,  the  Logic  of  Birds.^  In  this  the 
feathered  creatures  are  made  to  contend  in  a  curious 
way  on  the  causes  of  existence,  and  the  Source  of 
Truth*     ^Hudhud,^  the  All-knowing  magical  bird  of 


OMAR  KHAYYAM'S  GRAVE  fi 

Solomon,  is  inttoduccd,  as  the  Teacher  of  Birds ;  and 
also  Simurgf,  the  Phoenix  of  the  Orientals,  and  Symbol 
of  the  Highest  Ligfht.'^  In  this  it  is  understood  that  the 
Birds  represent  Humanity,  Hudhud  is  the  Prophet,  and 
the  Simurgf  stands  for  Deity*  This  tomb  I  shall  not 
have  time  to  visit*  Another  three  marches  take  us  to 
Meshed,  and  then  we  shall  be  close  to  the  Afgfhan 
frontier*  I  am  sending;  a  sketch  of  Omar  Khayam^s 
tomb  to  the  Htusirated  London  cKe^ws. 

Believe  me 

Yours  very  truly, 

William  Simpson. 


^ 


OMAR  KHAYYAM. 

¥ 

**Saycf  of  sooth,  and  searcher  of  dim  skies  I 
Lover  of  Song,  and  Sun,  and  Summertide, 
For  -w^hom  so  many  roses  bloomed  and  died  ; 

Tender  Interpreter,  most  sadly  wise, 

Of  earth's  dumb,  inarticulated  cries  I 
Time's  self  cannot  estrange  us,  nor  divide ; 
Thy  hand  still  beckons  from  the  garden-side. 

Through  green  vine-garlands,  when  the  Winter  dies, 

**Thy  calm  lips  smile  on  us,  thine  eyes  are  wet ; 
The  nightingale's  full  song  sobs  all  through  thine. 
And  thine  in  hers — part  human,  part  divine  I 

Among  the  deathless  gods  thy  place  is  set. 
All-wise,  but  drowsy  with  Life's  mingled  Wine, 

Laughter  and  Learning,  Passion  and  Regret*" 

Graham  %.  Tomsoru 
Inscribed  to  A*  L»  {Andrea)  Lang)* 


ItH 


**Otmitf  6e3a  Sultan  of  the  Persian  Song, 
Familiar  friend,  whom  I  have  loved  so  long, 

Whose  volume  made  my  pleasant  hiding-place 
From  this  fantastic  world  of  right  and  wrong. 

^My  youth  lies  buried  in  thy  verses :  lo, 
I  readt  and  as  the  haunted  numbers  f  low. 

My  memory  turns  in  anguish  to  the  face 
That  leaned  o'er  Omar's  pages  long  ago, 

**  Alas  for  me,  alas  for  all  who  weep 
And  wonder  at  the  silence  dark  and  deep 

That  girdles  round  this  little  lamp  in  space 
No  wiser  than  when  Omar  fell  asleep. 

**Rest  in  thy  grave  beneath  the  crimson  rain 
Of  heart-desired  roses.    Life  is  vain. 

And  vain  the  trembling  legends  we  may  trace 
Upon  the  open  book  that  shuts  again." 

Justin  Hunfly  McCarthy* 


OMAR  KHAYYAM, 
THE  ASTRONOMER  POET  OF  PERSIA* 

By  EDWARD  FITZGERALD. 

¥ 

MAR  KHAYYAM  was  bom  at  Naish- 
kpur,  in  Khorasan^  in  the  latter  half  of 
out  eleventh^  and  6icd  within  the  first 
quarter  of  our  twelfth  ccntary.  The 
slender  story  of  his  life  is  curiously- 
twined  about  that  of  two  other  very  considerable  f  igfures 
in  their  time  and  country:  one  of  whom  tells  the 
story  of  all  three*  This  was  Nizam-ul-Mulk^  Vizyr 
to  Alp  Arslan  the  Son>  and  Malik  Shah  the  Grandson, 
of  Togfhrul  Bcgf  the  Tartar,  who  had  wrested  Persia 
from  the  feeble  successor  of  Mahmud  the  Great,  and 
founded  that  Seljukian  Dynasty  which  finally  roused 
Europe  into  the  Crusades.  This  Nizam-ul-Mulk,  in 
his  Wasiyat — or  Testament — which  he  wrote  and  left  as 
a  memorial  for  future  statesmen — relates  the  following;, 
as  quoted  in  the  Calcutta  9?e*ore*ct;,  No.  59,  from  Mirk- 
hond*s  History  of  the  Assassins : — 

'''One  of  the  greatest  of  the  wise  men  of  Kho- 
rassan  was  the  Imam  Mowaffak  of  Naishapur,  a  man 
hi8:hly  honored  and  reverenced — may  God  rejoice  his 
soul ;  his  illustrious  years  exceeded  eighty-five,  and  it 

It 


Ivi  OMAR  KHA  YYAM, 


was  the  universal  belief  that  every  boy  who  tead  the 
Koran  or  studied  the  traditions  in  his  presence  would 
assuredly  attain  to  honor  and  happiness.  For  this 
cause  6i6  my  father  send  me  from  Tus  to  Naishapur 
with  Abd-us-samad^  the  doctor  of  law^  that  I  migfht 
employ  myself  in  study  and  Iearnin§f  under  the  gfuid- 
ance  of  that  illustrious  teacher.  Towards  me  he  ever 
turned  an  eye  of  favor  and  kindness^  and,  as  his  pupil, 
I  felt  for  him  extreme  affection  and  devotion,  so  that  I 
passed  four  years  in  his  service.  When  I  first  came 
there,  I  found  two  other  pupils  of  mine  own  age  newly 
arrived,  Hakim  Omar  Khayyam,  and  the  ill-fated  Ben 
Sabbah.  Both  were  endowed  with  sharpness  of  wit 
and  the  highest  natural  powers ;  and  we  three  formed  a 
close  friendship  together.  When  the  Imam  rose  from 
his  lectures,  they  used  to  join  me,  and  we  repeated  to 
each  other  the  lessons  we  had  heard.  Now,  Omar  was 
a  native  of  Naishapur,  while  Hasan  Ben  Sabbah^s 
father  was  one  Ali,  a  man  of  austere  life  and  practice, 
but  heretical  in  his  creed  and  doctrine.  One  day  Hasan 
said  to  me  and  to  Khayyam, '  It  is  a  universal  belief 
that  the  pupils  of  the  Imam  Mowaffak  will  attain  to 
fortune.  Now,  even  if  we  att  do  not  attain  thereto, 
without  doubt  one  of  us  will ;  what  then  shall  be  our 
mutual  pledge  and  bond  ?  *  We  answered,  ^  Be  it  what 
you  please.'  '  "Well,'  he  said,  *  let  us  make  a  vow,  that 
to  whomsoever  this  fortune  falls,  he  shall  share  it  equally 
with  the  rest,  and  reserve  no  pre-eminence  for  himself.' 
<Be  it  so,'  we  both  replied,  and  on  those  terms  we  muto- 


THE  ASTRONOMER-POET  OF  PERSIA  lyfi 

ally  pledged  our  words*  Years  rolled  on,  and  I  went 
from  Khorassan  to  Transoxiana,  and  wandered  to 
Ghazni  and  Cabul ;  and  when  I  returned,  I  was  invested 
With  office,  and  rose  to  be  administrator  of  affairs  during 
the  Sultanate  of  Sultan  Alp  Arslan/ 

**  He  goes  on  to  state  that  years  passed  by,  and  both 
his  old  school-friends  found  him  out,  and  came  and 
claimed  a  share  in  his  good  fortune,  according  to  the 
school-day  vow*  The  Vizier  was  generous  and  kept 
his  word*  Hasan  demanded  a  place  in  the  government, 
which  the  Sultan  granted  at  the  Vizier^s  request ;  but 
discontented  with  a  gradual  rise,  he  plunged  into  the 
maze  of  intrigue  of  an  Oriental  court,  and,  failing  in  a 
base  attempt  to  supplant  his  benefactor,  he  was  disgraced 
and  fell*  After  many  mishaps  and  wanderings,  Hasan 
became  the  head  of  the  Persian  sect  of  the  IsnuLilians 
— a  party  of  fanatics  who  had  long  murmured  in  ob- 
scurity, but  rose  to  an  evil  eminence  under  the  guidance 
of  his  strong  and  evil  will.  In  A.  D.  t090  he  seized  the 
castle  of  Alamut,  in  the  province  of  Rtidbar,  which 
lies  in  the  mountainous  tract  south  of  the  Caspian  sea ; 
and  it  was  from  this  mountain  home  he  obtained  that 
evil  celebrity  among  the  Crusaders  as  the  OLD  MAN 
OF  THE  MOUNTAINS,  and  spread  terror  through 
the  Mohammedan  world ;  and  it  is  yet  disputed  whether 
the  word  Assassin,  which  they  have  left  in  the  language 
of  modem  Europe  as  their  dark  memorial,  is  derived 
from  the  hashish  or  opiate  of  hemp-leaves  (the  Indian 
bhang)  f  with  which  they  maddened  themselves  to  the 


Ivili  OMAR  KHA  YYAM, 


sullen  pitch  of  Oriental  desperation^  or  from  the  name 
of  the  founder  of  the  dynasty,  whom  we  have  seen  in 
his  quiet  collegfiate  days  at  Naishapur.  One  of  the 
countless  victims  of  the  Assassin^s  dagfgfer  was  Nizam- 
ul-MuIk  himself,  the  old  school-boy  f riend** 

^  Omar  Khayyam  also  came  to  the  Vizier  to  claim 
the  share;  but  not  to  ask  for  title  or  office*  'The 
greatest  boon  you  can  confer  on  me/  he  said,  *  is  to  let 
mc  live  in  a  comer  under  the  shadow  of  your  fortune, 
to  spread  wide  the  advantagfes  of  Science,  and  pray  for 
your  long;  life  and  prosperity/  The  Vizier  tells  us,  that 
when  he  found  Omar  was  really  sincere  in  his  refusal, 
he  pressed  him  no  further,  but  gfranted  him  a  yearly 
pension  of  twelve  hundred  mithkats  of  gold  from  the 
treasury  at  Naishapun 

**  At  Naishapur  thus  lived  and  6iz6.  Omar  Khay- 
yam, '  busied,'  adds  the  Vizict,  *  in  winning  knowledge 
of  every  kind,  and  especially  in  Astronomy,  wherein 
he  attained  to  a  very  high  pre-eminence*  Under  the 
Sultanate  of  Malik  Shah,  he  came  to  Merv,  and  ob- 
tained great  praise  for  his  proficiency  in  science,  and 
the  Sultan  showered  favors  upon  him/ 


*  Some  of  Omar's  Rubaiyat  warn  us  of  the  danger  of  Great- 
ness, the  instability  of  Fortune,  and  while  advocating  Charity  to  all 
Men,  recommending  us  to  be  too  intimate  with  none.  Attar 
makes  Nizam-uI-MuIk  use  the  very  words  of  his  friend  Omar 
[Rub*  rxviii]:  **  When  Nizam-uI-Mulfc  was  fn  the  agony  (of  Death) 
he  said,  *  O  God  I  I  am  passing  away  in  the  hand  of  the  "Wind/  ** 


THE  ASTRONOMER-POET  OF  PERSIA  Kx 

''"When  Malik  Shah  determined  to  feform  the 
calendar,  Omar  was  one  of  the  eigfht  learned  men  em- 
ployed to  do  it ;  the  result  was  the  Jahti  era  (so  called 
{torn.  JataUu-ditif  one  of  the  kin8:^s  names) — *a  compu- 
tation of  time/  says  Gibbon,  *  which  surpasses  the 
Julian,  and  approaches  the  accuracy  of  the  Gregforian 
style/  He  is  also  the  author  of  some  astronomical 
tables,  entitled  Ziji-Malikshahi,^  and  the  French  have 
lately  republished  and  translated  an  Arabic  treatise  of 
his  on  Algebra* 

'^His  Takhallus  or  poetical  name  (Khayyam) 
sigfnifies  a  Tent-maker,  and  he  is  said  to  have  at  one 
time  exercised  that  trade,  perhaps  before  Nizam-ul- 
Mulk's  generosity  raised  him  to  independence.  Many 
Persian  poets  similarly  derive  their  names  from  their 
occupations;  thus  we  have  Attar  ^a  druggist,^  Assar 
^an  oil  prcsser,^  etc.*  Omar  himself  alludes  to  his 
name  in  the  following  whimsical  lines : — 

'Khayyam,  who  stitched  the  tents  of  science. 
Has  fallen  in  grief's  furnace  and  been  suddenly  burned ; 
The  shears  of  Fate  have  cut  the  tent  ropes  of  his  life, 
And  the  broker  of  Hope  has  sold  him  for  nothing  I ' 

**  "We  have  only  one  more  anecdote  to  give  of  his 
Life,  and  that  relates  to  the  close ;  it  is  told  in  the 
anonymous  preface  which  is  sometimes  prefixed  to  his 

♦Though  all  these,  like  our  Smiths,  Archers,  Millers,  Fletch- 
ers, etc.,  may  simply  retain  the  surname  of  an  hereditary  calling. 


Ix  OMAR  KHAYYAM, 

poems ;  it  has  fcccn  printed  in  the  Persian  in  the  appen- 
dix to  Hyde^s  'Veiemm  ^ersamm  ^etigio,  p.  499 ;  and 
D'Herbelot  alludes  to  it  in  his  Bibliotheque,  under 
Khiam  :  * 

'^  *  It  is  written  in  the  chronicles  of  the  ancients  that 
this  Kin§f  of  the  Wise,  Omar  Khayyam,  6iz6.  at  Naish- 
li,pur  in  the  year  of  the  Hegira  5M  (A»  D.  n23);  in 
science  he  was  unrivaled — the  very  paragfon  of  his  agfe»' 
Khwajah  Nizami  of  Samarcand,  who  was  one  of  his 
pupils,  relates  the  followingf  story;  'I  often  used  to 
hold  conversations  with  my  teacher,  Omar  Khayyam, 
in  a  garden;  and  one  day  he  said  to  me,  'My  tomb 
shall  be  in  a  spot  where  the  north  wind  may  scatter 
roses  over  it/  I  wondered  at  the  words  he  spake,  but  I 
knew  that  his  were  no  idle  words.!    Years  after,  when 


*  **  Pbilosophe  Mttsulman  qui  a  vecu  en  Odcor  dc  Saintete 
dans  la  Fin  du  premier  et  le  Commencement  do  second  Sie"  cle,"  no 
part  of  which,  except  the  **  Philosophe,"  can  apply  to  our  Khayyam* 

t  The  Rashness  of  the  "Words,  according  to  D*HerbeIot,  con- 
sisted in  being  so  opposed  to  those  in  the  Koran :  '^No  Man  knows 
where  he  shall  die.,** — This  Story  of  Omar  reminds  me  of  another 
so  naturally — and,  when  one  remembers  how  wide  of  his  humble 
mark  the  noble  sailor  aimed — so  pathetically  told  by  Optain  Cook 
— not  by  Doctor  Hawkesworth — in  his  second  voyage.  When 
leaving  Ulietea,  **  Orea*s  last  request  was  for  me  to  return.  "When 
he  saw  he  could  not  obtain  that  promise,  he  asked  the  name  of  my 
S^SLTSii — Burying-place.  As  strange  a  question  as  this  was,  I  hesi- 
tated not  a  moment  to  tell  him  *  Stepney,'  the  parish  in  which  I  live 
when  in  London.    I  was  made  to  repeat  it  several  times  over  till 


THE  ASTRONOMER-POET  OF  PERSIA  ha 

I  chanced  to  revisit  Naishaptir,  I  went  to  his  final  rest- 
ing-place, and  lo !  it  was  just  outside  a  g:arden,  and  trees 
laden  with  fruit  stretched  their  boughs  over  the  garden 
wallt  and  dropped  their  flowers  upon  his  tomb,  so  as 
the  stone  was  hidden  under  them/  ^ 

Thus  far — without  fear  of  Trespass — from  the 
Calcutta,  ^evtetu*  The  writer  of  it,  on  reading  in  India 
this  story  of  Omar's  Grave,  was  reminded,  he  says,  of 
Cicero's  Account  of  finding  Archimedes'  Tomb  at  Syra- 
cuse buried  in  grass  and  weeds^  I  think  Thorwaldsen 
desired  to  have  roses  grow  over  him — a  wish  religiously 
fulfilled  for  him  to  the  present  day,  I  believe*  However^ 
to  return  to  Omar* 

Though  the  Sultan  **  shower'd  Favors  upon  him,'' 
Omar's  Epicurean  Audacity  of  Thought  and  Speech 
caused  him  to  be  regarded  askance  in  his  own  time  and 
G)untry*  He  is  said  to  have  been  especially  hated  and 
dtca,6cd  by  the  Sufis,  whose  Practice  he  ridiculed,  and 
whose  Faith  amounts  to  little  more  than  his  own  when 
stript  of  the  Mysticism  and  formal  recognition  of  Islam- 
ism  under  which  Omar  would  not  hide*  Their  Poets, 
including  Hafiz,  who  are  (with  the  exception  of  Fxr- 
dausi)  the  most  considerable  in  Persia,  borrowed  largely^ 


they  could  pronounce  it ;  and  then  *  Stepney  Mar ai  no  Tootee '  was 
echoed  through  a  hundred  mouths  at  once.  I  afterwards  found  the 
same  question  had  been  put  to  Mr.  Forster  by  a  man  on  shore ;  but 
he  gave  a  different  and  indeed  more  proper  answer,  by  saying, 
*  No  man  who  used  the  sea  could  say  where  he  should  be  buried."* 


Ixii  OMAR  KHAYYAM, 


indeed^  of  Omar^s  matenal,  but  tumingf  it  to  a  mystical 
Use  more  convenient  to  Themselves  and  the  People  they 
addressed;  a  People  quite  as  quick  of  Doubt  as  of 
Belief ;  as  keen  of  Bodily  Sense  as  of  Intellectual ;  and 
deligfhtingf  in  a  cloudy  composition  of  both,  in  which 
they  could  float  luxuriously  between  Heaven  and  Earth, 
and  this  "World  and  the  Next,  on  the  wings  of  a  poetical 
expression,  that  mi§fht  serve  indifferently  for  eithen 
Omar  was  too  honest  of  Heart  as  well  as  of  Head  for 
this*  Havingf  failed  (hawever  mistakenly)  of  findings 
any  Providence  but  Destiny,  and  any  "World  but  This, 
he  set  about  making:  the  most  of  it ;  preferring:  rather 
to  soothe  the  Soul  through  the  Senses  into  Acquiescence 
with  Things  as  he  saw  them,  than  to  perplex  it  with 
vain  disquietude  after  what  they  might  he*  It  has  been 
seen,  however,  that  his  "Worldly  Ambition  was  not 
exorbitant;  and  he  very  likely  takes  a  humorous  or 
perverse  pleasure  in  exalting  the  gratification  of  Sense 
above  that  of  the  Intellect,  in  which  he  must  have 
taken  great  delight,  although  it  failed  to  answer  the 
Questions  in  which  he,  in  common  with  all  men,  was 
most  vitally  interested* 

For  whatever  Reason,  however,  Omar,  as  before 
said,  has  never  been  popular  in  his  own  Country,  and 
therefore  has  been  but  scantily  transmitted  abroad*  The 
MSS*  of  his  Poems,  mutilated  beyond  the  average 
Casualties  of  Oriental  Transcription,  are  so  rare  in  the 
East  as  scarce  to  have  reached  Westward  at  all,  in  spite 
of  all  the  acquisitions  of  Arms  and  Science*    There  'v^ 


THE  ASTRONOMER-POET  OF  PERSIA  bdii 

no  copy  at  the  India  House^  none  at  the  Bibliotheque 
Nationale  of  Paris*  Wc  know  of  but  one  in  Engfland : 
No*  J40  of  the  Ouseley  MSS.  at  the  Bodleian,  written 
at  ShitaiZ,  A«D*  i460*  This  contains  but  J  58  Rubaiyat* 
One  in  the  Asiatic  Society's  Library  at  Calcutta  (of 
which  we  have  a  copy)  contains  (and  yet  incomplete) 
5t6f  thou§fh  swelled  to  that  by  all  kinds  of  Repetition 
and  Corruption*  So  Von  Hammer  speaks  of  fits  copy 
as  containing;  about  200,  while  Dr.  Sprenger  catalogfues 
the  Lucknow  MS*  at  double  that  number.*  The  Scribes, 
too,  of  the  Oxford  and  Calcutta  MSS.  seem  to  do  their 
"Work  under  a  sort  of  Protest ;  each  beginning;  with  a 
Tetrastich  (whether  gfenuine  or  not),  taken  out  of  its 
alphabetical  order :  the  Oxford  with  one  of  Apology ; 
the  Calcutta  with  one  of  Expostulation,  supposed  (says 
a  Notice  prefixed  to  the  MS.)  to  have  risen  from  a 
Dream  in  which  Omar's  mother  asked  about  his  future 
fate.    It  may  be  rendered  thus : — 

**  O  Thou  who  bum'st  in  Heart  for  those  who  bam 
In  HeU,  whose  fires  thyself  shall  feed  in  turn ; 

How  long  be  cf ying^  *  Mercy  on  them,  God  I  * 
Why,  who  art  Thou  to  teach,  and  He  to  learn?  ** 

The  Bodleian  Quatrain  pleads  Pantheism  by  way 
of  Justification : — 

***  Since  this  Paper  was  written  (adds  the  Reviewer  in  a 
note),  **  we  have  met  with  a  copy  of  a  very  rare  Edition,  printed  at 
Calcutta  in  J836,  This  contains  438  Tetrastichs,  with  an  Appendix 
containing  54  others  not  found  in  some  MSS/' 


Ixi  V  OMAR  KHA  YYAM, 


**  If  I  myself  upon  a  looser  Creed 
Have  loosely  strung  the  Jewel  of  Good  deed. 
Let  this  one  thing  for  my  Atonement  plead : 
That  One  for  Two  I  never  did  mis-read." 

The  Reviewer^*  to  whom  I  owe  the  Particulars  of 
Omar^s  Life,  concludes  his  Review  by  comparin§f  him 
with  Lucretius,  both  as  to  natural  Temper  and  Genius, 
and  as  acted  upon  by  the  Circumstances  in  which  he 
lived*  Both  indeed  were  men  of  subtle,  strongf,  and  cul- 
tivated Intellect,  fine  Imagination,  and  Hearts  passionate 
for  Truth  and  Justice ;  who  justly  revolted  from  theif 
Country^s  false  Religfion,  and  false,  or  foolish.  Devotion 
to  it;  but  who  yet  felt  short  of  replacing;  what  they 
subverted  by  such  better  Hope  as  others,  with  no  better 
Revelation  to  guide  them,  had  yet  made  a  law  to  them- 
selves*  Lucretius,  indeed,  with  such  material  as  Epi- 
curus furnished,  satisfied  himself  with  the  theory  of  a 
vast  machine  fortuitously  constructed,  and  acting  by  a 
Law  that  implied  no  Legislator ;  and  so  composing  him- 
self into  a  Stoical  rather  than  Epicurean  severity  of  Atti- 
tude, sat  down  to  contemplate  the  mechanical  Drama 
of  the  Universe  which  he  was  part  Actor  in ;  himself 
and  all  about  him  (as  in  his  own  sublime  description  of 
the  Roman  Theatre)  discolored  with  the  lurid  reflex  of 
the  Curtain  suspended  between  the  Spectator  and  the 
Sum  Omar,  more  desperate,  or  more  careless  of  any 
so  complicated  System  as  resulted  in  nothing  but  hope- 

*  Professor  Cowelt 


THE  ASTRONOMER-POET  OF  PERSIA  Ixy 

less  Necessity,  f Iun§f  his  own  Genius  and  Leamingf  with 
a  bitter  or  humorous  jest  into  the  general  Ruin  which 
their  insufficient  glimpses  only  served  to  reveal ;  and, 
pretending  sensual  pleasure  as  the  serious  purpose  of 
Life,  only  diverted  himself  with  speculative  problems  of 
Deity,  Destiny,  Matter  and  Spirit,  Good  and  Evil,  and 
other  such  questions,  easier  to  start  than  to  run  down, 
and  the  pursuit  of  which  becomes  a  very  weary  sport  at 
last! 

With  regard  to  the  present  Translation*  The  origi- 
nal Rubaiyat  (as,  missing  an  Arabic  Guttural,  these 
^eirasUchs  are  more  musically  called)  are  independent 
Stanzas,  consisting  each  of  four  Lines  of  equal,  though 
varied.  Prosody;  sometimes  att  rhyming,  but  oftener 
(as  here  imitated)  the  third  line  a  blank,  sometimes 
as  in  the  Greek  Alcaic,  where  the  penultimate  line 
seems  to  lift  and  suspend  the  "Wave  that  falls  over 
in  the  last*  As  usual  with  such  kind  of  Oriental 
Verse,  the  Rubaiyat  follow  one  another  according  to 
Alphabetic -Rhyme — a  strange  succession  of  Grave  and 
Gay*  Those  here  selected  are  strung  into  something  of 
an  Eclogue,  with  perhaps  a  less  than  equal  proportion 
of  the  **  Drink  and  make-merry,^  which  (genuine  or 
not)  recurs  over-frequently  in  the  Original.  Either  way, 
the  Result  is  sad  enough :  saddest  perhaps  when  most 
ostentatiously  merry:  more  apt  to  move  Sorrow  than 
Anger  toward  the  old  Tent-maker,  who,  after  vainly 
endeavoring  to  unshackle  his  Steps  from  Destiny,  and  to 
catch  some  authentic  Glimpse  of  To-morroWf  fell  back 


Ixvi  OMAR  KHA  YYAM, 


upon  To-day  (which  has  outlasted  so  many  To- 
morrows!)  as  the  only  Ground  he  got  to  stand  upon, 
iiowever  momentarily  slipping:  from  under  his  Feet. 


[From  the  Third  Edition.] 

While  the  second  Edition  of  this  version  of  Omar 
was  preparing:^  Monsieur  Nicolas,  French  Consul  at 
Resht,  published  a  very  careful  and  very  gfood  Edition 
of  the  Text,  from  a  lithograph  copy  at  Teheran,  com- 
prising 464  Ruhaiyat  with  translation  and  notes  of  his 
own. 

Monsieur  Nicolas,  whose  Edition  has  reminded  me 
of  several  things,  and  instructed  me  in  others,  does  not 
consider  Omar  to  be  the  material  Epicurean  that  I  have 
literally  taken  him  for,  but  a  Mystic,  shadowing  the 
Deity  under  the  figure  of  Wine,  Wine-bearer,  etc,  as 
Haf iz  is  supposed  to  do ;  in  short,  a  Sufi  Poet  like  Haf iz 
and  the  rest. 

I  cannot  see  reason  to  alter  my  opinion,  formed  as  it 
was  more  than  a  dozen  years  ago,*  when  Omar  was  first 
shown  me  by  one  to  whom  I  am  indebted  for  all  I  know 
of  Oriental,  and  very  much  of  other,  literature.  He  ad- 
mired Omar's  Genius  so  much,  that  he  would  gladly  have 
adopted  any  such  Interpretation  of  his  meaning  as  Mon- 

♦  Written  in  J868.    [W.  A,  W.] 


THE  ASTRONOMER-POET  OF  PERSIA  Ixvii 

sicuf  NicoIas%  if  he  could**  That  he  could  not^  appears 
by  his  Paper  in  the  Calcutta  Review  already  so  largely 
quoted ;  in  which  he  argues  from  the  Poems  themselves, 
as  well  as  from  what  records  remain  of  the  Poet's  Life* 
And  if  more  were  needed  to  disprove  Monsieur  Nicolas' 
theory,  there  is  the  Biographical  Notice  which  he  himself 
has  drawn  up  in  direct  contradiction  to  the  Interpretation 
of  the  Poems  given  in  his  Notes*  (See  pp*  { 3- H  of  his 
Preface)*  Indeed  I  hardly  knew  poor  Omar  was  so  far 
gone  till  his  Apologist  informed  me*  For  here  we  see 
that,  whatever  were  the  Wine  that  Hafiz  drank  and 
sang,  the  veritable  Juice  of  the  Grape  it  was  which  Omar 
used,  not  only  when  carousing  with  his  friends,  but  (says 
Monsieur  Nicolas)  in  order  to  excite  himself  to  that 
pitch  of  Devotion  which  others  reached  by  cries  and 
^hurlemens*''  And  yet,  whenever  Wine,  Wine-bearer, 
etc*,  occur  in  the  Text — which  is  often  enough — Monsieur 
Nicolas  carefully  annotates  ''I>ieu,''  ''La  Divinite,'' 
etc*:  so  carefully  indeed  that  one  is  tempted  to  think 
that  he  was  indoctrinated  by  the  Sufi  with  whom  he 
read  the  Poems*  (Note  to  Rub*  iu  p*  8)*  A  Persian 
would  naturally  wish  to  vindicate  a  distinguished 
Countryman ;  and  a  Sufi  to  enrol  him  in  his  own  sect, 
which  already  comprises  all  the  chief  Poets  of  Persia* 


*  Perhaps  would  have  edited  the  Poems  himself  somie  years 
ago.  He  may  now  as  little  approve  of  my  Version  on  one  side,  as 
of  Monsieur  Nicolas'  Theory  on  the  other. 


Ixviii  OMAR  KHAYYAm, 


What  historical  Authority  has  Monsieur  Nicolas 
to  show  that  Omar  gfavc  himself  up  **  avec  passion  ^ 
Tetude  de  la  philosophie  des  Souf is ''  ?  (Preface,  p.  ju^*) 
The  doctrines  of  Pantheism,  Materialism,  Necessity,  etc., 
were  not  peculiar  to  the  Sufi ;  nor  to  Lucretius  before 
them ;  nor  to  Epicurus  before  him ;  probably  the  very 
original  Irreligfion  of  Thinkingf  men  from  the  first; 
and  very  likely  to  be  the  spontaneous  growth  of  a 
Philosopher  living  in  an  Age  of  social  and  political  bar- 
barism, under  shadow  of  one  of  the  Two  and  Seventy 
Religions  supposed  to  divide  the  world*  Von  Hammer 
(according  to  Sprenger^s  Oriental  Catalogue)  speaks  of 
Omar  as  '^a  Free-thinker,  and  a.  great  opponent  of 
Sufism  'V  perhaps  because,  while  holding  much  of  their 
Doctrine,  he  would  not  pretend  to  any  inconsistent 
severity  of  morals*  Sir  W*  Ouseley  has  written  a  Note 
to  something  of  the  same  effect  on  the  fly-leaf  of  the 
Bodleian  MS.  And  in  two  Rubaiyat  of  Monsieur 
Nicolas^  own  Edition  Suf  and  Sufi  are  both  disparag- 
ingly named. 

No  doubt  many  of  these  Quatrains  seem  unaccount- 
able unless  mystically  interpreted ;  but  many  more  as 
unaccountable  unless  literally.  "Were  the  Wine  spiritual, 
for  instance,  how  wash  the  Body  with  it  when  dead? 
Why  make  cups  of  the  dead  clay  to  be  filled  with — ''La 
Divinite^ — by  some  succeeding  Mystic?  Monsieur 
Nicolas  himself  is  puzzled  by  some  ''bizarres''  and 
''trop  Orientales^  allusions  and  images — ''d'unc  sen- 
sualite    quelquefois    rcvoltante,''    indeed — which    ''les 


THE  ASTWNOMER-POET  OF  PERSIA         Ixix 

convenances^  do  not  permit  him  to  translate ;  but  still 
which  the  reader  cannot  but  refer  to  *^La  Divinite*''* 
No  doubt  also  many  of  the  Quatrains  in  the  Teheran, 
as  in  the  Calcutta,  Copies,  are  spurious ;  such  Ruhaiyai 
being:  the  common  form  of  Epigram  in  Persia^  But  this, 
at  best,  tells  as  much  one  way  as  another;  nay,  the  Sufi, 
who  may  be  considered  the  Scholar  and  Man  of  letters 
in  Persia,  would  be  far  more  likely  than  the  careless 
Epicure  to  interpolate  what  favours  his  own  view  of  the 
Poet.  I  observe  that  very  few  of  the  more  mystical 
Quatrains  are  in  the  Bodleian  MS»,  which  must  be  one 
of  the  oldest,  as  dated  at  Shiraz,  A.  H.  Z6St  A.  D*  H60* 
And  this,  I  think,  especially  distinguishes  Omar  (I  can- 
not help  calling  him  by  his — no,  not  Christian — familiar 
name)  from  all  other  Persian  Poets;  That,  whereas 
with  them  the  Poet  is  lost  in  his  Song,  the  Man  in 


*A  Note  to  Quatrain  234  admits  that,  however  clear  the 
mystical  meaning  of  such  Images  must  be  to  Europeans,  they  are 
not  quoted  without  **  rougissant  **  even  fay  laymen  in  Persia — 
''Quant  auz  termes  de  tendresse  qui  commencent  ce  quatrain* 
comme  tant  d'autres  dans  ce  recueil,  nos  lecteurs,  habitues,  main- 
tenant  a  Tetrangete  des  expressions  si  souvent  employes  par  Kheyam 
pour  rendre  ses  pensees  sur  I'amour  divin,  et  a  la  singularite  des 
images  trop  orientales,  d'une  sensualite  quelquefob  revoltante 
n'auront  pas  de  peine  a  se  persuader  qu^il  s'agit  de  la  Divinite,  bien 
que  cette  conviction  soit  vivement  discutee  par  les  moullahs  musul- 
mans,  et  meme  par  beaucoup  de  laiques,  qui  rougissant  veritable- 
ment  d'une  pareille  licence  de  leur  compatriote  a  Tegard  da  chosei 
spirituellcs." 


Ixx  OMAR  KHAYYAM, 

Allcgfory  and  Abstraction;  we  seem  to  have  the  Man — 
the  Bonhomme — Omar  himself,  with  all  his  Humours 
and  Passions,  as  frankly  before  us  as  if  we  were  really 
at  Table  with  him,  after  the  Wine  had  gfone  rounds 

I  must  say  that  I,  for  one,  never  wholly  believed 
in  the  Mysticism  of  Hafiz.  It  does  not  appear  there 
was  any  dangfer  in  hoIdin§f  and  singfing;  Sufi  Pantheism 
so  long:  as  the  Poet  made  his  Salaam  to  Mohammed  at 
the  begfinningf  and  end  of  his  Songf.  Under  such  con- 
ditions Jelaluddin,  Jami,  Attar  and  others  sang:;  using: 
Wine  and  Beauty  indeed  as  Imag:es  to  illustrate,  not  as 
a  Mask  to  hide,  the  Divinity  they  were  celebrating:^ 
Perhaps  some  AIleg:ory  less  liable  to  mistake  or  abuse 
had  been  better  among:  so  inflammable  a  People:  much 
more  so  when,  as  some  think  with  Hafiz  and  Omar, 
the  abstract  is  not  only  likened  to,  but  identified  with, 
the  sensual  Imag:e;  hazardous,  if  not  to  the  Devotee 
himself,  yet  to  his  weaker  Brethren;  and  worse  for  the 
Profane  in  proportion  as  the  Devotion  of  the  Initiated 
g:rew  warmer*  And  all  for  what?  To  be  tantalized 
with  Imag:es  of  sensual  enjoyment  which  must  be  re- 
nounced if  one  would  approximate  a  God,  who,  accord- 
ing: to  the  Doctrine,  is  Sensual  Matter  as  well  as  Spirit, 
and  into  whose  Universe  one  expects  unconsciously  to 
merg:e  after  Death,  without  hope  of  any  posthumous 
Beatitude  in  another  world  to  compensate  for  all  one's 
self-denial  in  this*  Lucretius'  blind  Divinity  certainly 
merited,  and  probably  g:ot,  as  much  self-sacrifice  as  this 
of  the  Sufi;  and  the  burden  of  Omar's  Song: — if  not  ''Let 


THE  ASTRONOMER-POET  OF  PERSIA  I^xi 

tis  caf — is  assuredly — ^Let  os  drinks  for  To-morrow  wc 
die!^^  And  if  Hafiz  meant  quite  otherwise  by  a  similar 
languagfe,  he  surely  miscalculated  when  he  devoted  his 
Life  and  Genius  to  so  equivocal  a  Psalmody  as,  from 
his  Day  to  this,  has  been  said  and  sung  by  any  rather 
than  spiritual  "Worshippers* 

However,  as  there  is  some  traditional  presumption, 
and  certainly  the  opinion  of  some  learned  men,  in  favour 
of  Omar's  beingf  a  Sufi, — and  even  something;  of  a  Saint, — 
those  who  please  may  so  interpret  his  Wine  and  Cup- 
bearer* On  the  other  hand,  as  there  is  far  more  histor- 
ical certainty  of  his  beingf  a  Philosopher,  of  scientific 
insight  and  Ability  far  beyond  that  of  the  Age  and 
Country  he  lived  in;  of  such  moderate  worldly  Ambition 
as  becomes  a  Philosopher,  and  such  moderate  wants  as 
rarely  satisfy  a  Debauchee;  other  readers  may  be  con- 
tent to  believe  with  mc  that,  while  the  Wine  Omar 
celebrates  is  simply  the  Juice  of  the  Grape,  he  bragged 
more  than  he  drank  of  it,  in  very  Defiance  perhaps  of 
that  Spiritual  Wine  which  left  its  Votaries  sunk  in 
Hypocrisy  or  Disgust. 


^ 


''Keats  once  entreated  some  traveller  who  was  going  to  the 
East»  to  take  a  copy  of  "Endymion  **  with  him,  and  when  he  came 
to  the  great  Sahara^  to  cast  the  voltune  from  him  with  all  his  force 
far  away  into  the  yellow  waves  of  sand.  It  was  a  delicious,  fan- 
tastic wish,  that  the  loveliest  poem  of  our  later  English  speech 
should  lie  and  drift  in  the  remote  Sahara,  and  be  covered  at  last  in 
the  sand  that  has  engulfed  so  many  precious  things,  but  none  more 
precious,  caravans,  and  gold,  and  tissues,  and  fair  slaves,  and  the 
chiefs  of  mighty  clans*  If  I  might  frame  a  wish  in  distant  emula- 
tion, I  would  choose  that  some  wanderer  to  the  East,  some  Burton, 
some  Kinglake,  some  Warburton,  might  carry  this  little  book  in  his 
saddle-bags,  and  ride  through  Khorassan  till  he  came  to  Naishapur, 
and  cast  it  down  in  the  dust  before  the  tomb  of  Omar  Khayyam.** 

— hstin  Hunfty  McCarthy, 


v\^n 


\.V'^ 


fV 


V   "  r.i: 


rubAiyat 

OF 

OMAR  KHAYYAM  of  NAISHAPUR. 


FOURTH  EDITION. 


AKE I    For  the  Sun  who  scatter^  into  flight 
The  Stars  before  him  from  the  Field  of  Night, 
Drives  Night  along  with  them  from  Heaven, 
and  strikes 
The  Sultanas  Turret  with  a  Shaft  of  Light 

IL 

Before  the  phantom  of  False  morning  died/ 
Methought  a  Voice  within  the  Tavern  cried, 
^' When  all  the  Temple  is  prepared  within, 
Why  nods  the  drowsy  Worshipper  outside?'' 


I^JJBAIYAT  OF 


Anif  as  the  Cock  crew,  those  who  stood  before 
The  Tavern  shouted — **  Open  then  the  door  I 
You  know  how  little  while  we  have  to  stay, 
And,  once  departed,  may  return  no  more/^ 

IV, 
Now  the  New  Year,  reviving  old  Desires,* 
The  thoughtful  Soul  to  Solitude  retires. 

Where  the  White  Hand  of  Moses  on  the  Bough 
Puts  out,  and  Jesus  from  the  Ground  suspires.^ 

v, 

Iram  indeed  is  gone  with  all  his  Rose,* 

And  Jamshyd^s  SeVn-ring^d  Cup  where  no  one  knows; 
But  still  a  Ruby  kindles  in  the  Vine, 
And  many  a  Garden  by  the  Water  blows* 

VI 

And  David^s  lips  are  lockt ;  but  in  divine  ^ 
High-piping  Pehlevi,  with  '*  Wine  I  Wine  I  Wine ! 
Red  Wine  V* — the  Nightingale  cries  to  the  Rose 
That  sallow  cheek  ^  of  hers  to^  incarnadine* 


OMAR  KHAYYAm 


G)mc>  fill  the  Cupt  and  in  the  fire  of  Spring 
Your  Winter-garment  of  Repentance  fling : 
The  Bird  of  Time  has  but  a  fittle  way 
To  flutter — ^and  the  Bird  is  on  the  Wing. 

vm. 
Whether  at  Naishapur  or  Babylon, 
Whether  the  Cup  with  sweet  or  bitter  run, 

The  Wine  of  Life  keeps  oozing  drop  by  drop. 
The  Leaves  of  Life  keep  falling  one  by  one. 

K. 

Each  Morn  a  thousand  Roses  brings,  you  say; 

Yes,  but  where  leaves  the  Rose  of  Yesterday? 

And  this  first  Summer  month  that  brings  the  Rose 
Shall  take  Jamshyd  and  Kaikobad  away. 

X* 
Well,  let  it  take  them  1    What  have  we  to  do 
With  Kaikobad  the  Great,  or  Kaikhosru? 
Let  ZaI  and  Rustum  bluster  as  they  wiD,' 
Or  Hatim  call  to  Supper — ^heed  not  you* 


'i^ubXiyXt  of 


XL 

With  me  along  the  strip  of  Herbage  strown 
That  just  divides  the  desert  from  the  sown. 

Where  name  of  Slave  and  Sultan  is  forgot — 
And  Peace  to  Mahmud  on  his  golden  Throne  I 

xn. 

A  Book  of  Verses  underneath  the  Bough, 
A  Jug  of  Wine,  a  Loaf  of  Bread — and  Thou 
Beside  me  singing  in  the  Wilderness — 
Oh,  Wilderness  were  Paradise  enow ! 

xm. 

Some  for  the  Glories  of  This  World;  and  some 
Sigh  for  the  Prophet^s  Paradise  to  come ; 
Ah,  take  the  Cash,  and  let  the  Credit  go. 
Nor  heed  the  rumble  of  a  distant  drum  I* 

XIV. 

Look  to  the  blowing  Rose  about  us — **  Lo, 
Laughing,'^  she  says,  **  into  the  world  I  blow. 
At  once  the  silken  tassel  of  my  Purse 
Tear,  and  its  Treasure  on  the  Garden  throw^*** 


OMAR  KHAYYAM 


XV. 

And  those  who  husbanded  the  Golden  grain, 
And  those  who  flung  it  to  the  winds  like  Rain, 
Alike  to  no  such  aureate  Earth  are  tumM 
As,  buried  once.  Men  want  dug  up  again* 

XVI. 

The  Worldly  Hope  men  set  their  Hearts  upon 

Turns  Ashes — or  it  prospers ;  and  anon, 

Like  Snow  upon  the  Desert^s  dusty  Face, 
Lighting  a  little  hour  or  two — is  gone. 

XVII. 

Think,  in  this  batter^  Caravanserai 
Whose  Portals  are  alternate  Night  and  Day, 
How  Sultan  after  Sultan  with  his  Pomp 
Abode  his  destined  Hour,  and  went  his  way. 

xvin. 

They  say  the  Lion  and  the  Lizard  keep 

The  Courts  where  Jamshyd  gloried  and  drank  deep  :'• 
And  Bahram,  that  great  Hunter — ^the  Wild  Ass 
Stamps  o'er  his  Head,  but  cannot  break  his  Sleep. 


'KJJBAiYA'r  OF 


XDC 

I  sometimes  think  that  never  blows  so  red 
The  Rose  as  were  some  buried  Caesar  bled; 
That  every  Hyacinth  the  Garden  wears 
Dropt  in  her  Lap  from  some  once  lovely  Head* 

XX. 

And  this  reviving  Herb  whose  tender  Green 
Fledges  the  River-Lip  on  which  we  lean — 
Ah,  lean  upon  it  lightly  I  for  who  knows 
From  what  once  lovely  Lip  it  springs  unseen  I 

XXL 

Ah,  my  Beloved,  fill  the  cup  that  clears 
To-day  of  past  Regret  and  future  Fears : 

^o-morrowl — ^Why,  To-morrow  I  may  be 
Myself  with  Yesterday's  Sev*n  thousand  Years." 

xxn. 

For  some  we  loved,  the  loveliest  and  the  best 
That  from  his  Vintage  rolling  Time  hath  prest. 
Have  drunk  their  Cup  a  Round  or  two  before^ 
And  one  by  one  crept  silently  to  rest* 


omarkhayyAm 


xxm. 

And  wc,  that  now  make  merry  in  the  Room 
They  left,  and  Summer  dresses  in  new  bloom. 

Ourselves  must  we  beneath  the  Couch  of  Earth 
Descend — ourselves  to  make  a  Couch — ^for  whom  ? 

XXIV. 

Ah,  make  the  most  of  what  we  yet  may  spend, 

Before  we  too  into  the  Dust  descend ; 

Dust  into  Dust,  and  under  Dust,  to  lie. 

Sans  Wine,  sans  Song,  sans  Singer,  and — sans  End  I 

XXV. 

Alike  for  those  who  for  To-day  prepare. 
And  those  that  after  some  To-morrow  stare, 

A  Muezzin  from  the  Tower  of  Darkness  cries, 
**  Fools,  your  Reward  is  neither  Here  nor  There/' 

XXVL 

Why,  all  the  Saints  and  Sages  who  discussed 
Of  the  Two  Worlds  so  wisely — ^they  are  thrust 

Like  foolish  Prophets  forth ;  their  Words  to  Scorn 
Arc  scattered,  and  their  Mouths  are  stopt  with  Dust 


^ubXhAt  op 


xxvn. 
Myself  when  young  did  eagerly  frequent 
Doctor  and  Saint,  and  heard  great  argument 
About  it  and  about :  but  evermore 
Came  out  by  the  same  door  where  in  I  went* 

xxvin. 

With  them  the  seed  of  Wisdom  did  I  sow, 
And  with  mine  own  hand  wrought  to  make  it  grow ; 
And  this  was  all  the  Harvest  that  I  reaped — 
'*{  came  like  Water,  and  like  Wind  I  go/^ 

XXDC 

Into  this  Universe,  and  Why  not  knowing, 
Nor  Whence^  like  Water  willy-nilly  flowing; 
And  out  of  it,  as  Wind  along  the  Waste, 
I  know  not  Whithcff  willy-nilly  blowing. 

What,  without  asking,  hither  hurried  Whence  ? 

And,  without  asking,  Whither  hurried  hence  I 
Oh,  many  a  Cup  of  this  forbidden  Wine 
Must  drown  the  memory  of  that  insolence  I 


OMAR  KHAYYAM  f 


XXXL 

Up  from  Earth^s  Centre  through  the  Seventh  Gate 
I  rose,  and  on  the  Throne  of  Saturn  sate," 

And  many  a  Knot  unraveled  by  the  Road; 

But  not  the  Master-knot  of  Human  Fate. 

XXXIL 

There  was  the  Door  to  which  I  found  no  Key; 

There  was  the  Veil  through  which  I  might  not  see : 
Some  little  talk  awhile  of  Me  and  Thee 
There  was — and  then  no  more  of  Thee  and  Me.'* 

xxxm. 

Earth  could  not  answer ;  nor  the  Seas  that  mourn 

In  flowing  Purple,  of  their  Lord  forlorn; 

Nor  rolling  Heaven,  with  all  his  Signs  revcaPd 
And  hidden  by  the  sleeve  of  Night  and  Morn. 

xxxiv. 

Then  of  the  Thee  in  Me  who  works  behind 

The  Veil,  I  lifted  up  my  hands  to  find 

A  Lamp  amid  the  Darkness;  and  I  heard, 

As  from  Without— ''The  Me  within  Thee  blind  1  '^ 


RUBAIYAT  OF 


XXXV. 

Then  to  the  Lip  of  this  poor  earthen  Urn 

I  leaned,  the  Secret  of  my  Life  to  learn  : 

And  Lip  to  Lip  it  murmured — *^  While  you  live, 
Drink  I — ^for,  once  dead,  you  never  shall  return/' 

XXXVL 

I  think  the  Vessel,  that  with  fugitive 

Articulation  answered,  once  did  live, 

And  drink;  and  Ah!  the  passive  Lip  I  kissed. 
How  many  Kisses  might  it  take — and  give ! 

xxxvn. 

For  I  remember  stopping  by  the  way 

To  watch  a  Potter  thumping  his  wet  Clay : 

And  with  its  all-obliterated  Tongue 

It  murmurM — **  Gently,  Brother,  gently,  pray  I  **  '* 

xxxvin. 

And  has  not  such  a  Story  from  of  Old 
Down  Man's  successive  generations  rolled 
Of  such  a  clod  of  saturated  Earth 
Cast  by  the  Maker  into  Human  mould  ? 


OMAI^  KHAYYAM  |j 


XXXDC 

And  not  a  drop  that  from  our  Cups  wc  throw  '^ 
For  Earth  to  drink  of,  but  may  steal  below 

To  quench  the  fire  of  Anguish  in  some  Eye 
There  hidden — ^far  beneath,  and  long  ago* 

XL. 

As  then  the  Tulip  for  her  morning  sup 
Of  Heavenly  Vintage  from  the  soil  looks  up, 
Do  you  devoutly  do  the  like,  till  Heaven 
To  Earth  invert  you — like  an  empty  Cup» 

XLI. 

Perplext  no  more  with  Human  or  Divine, 
To-morrow's  tangle  to  the  winds  resign. 
And  lose  your  fingers  in  the  tresses  of 
The  Cypress-slender  Minister  of  Wine. 

XLH. 

And  if  the  Wine  you  drink,  the  Lip  you  press, 
End  in  what  All  begins  and  ends  in — ^Yes ; 

Think  then  you  are  To-day  what  Yesterday 
You  were — ^To-morrow  you  shall  not  be  less. 


12  RUBAIYAT  OF 


XLin. 

So  when  the  Angel  of  the  darker  Drink 

At  last  shall  find  you  by  the  river-brink, 
And,  offering  his  Cup,  invite  your  Soul 
Forth  to  your  Lips  to  quaff — ^you  shall  not  shrink.'^ 

XLIV. 

Why,  if  the  Soul  can  fling  the  Dust  aside. 
And  naked  on  the  Air  of  Heaven  ride, 

Were't  not  a  Shame — ^were^t  not  a  Shame  for  him 

In  this  clay  carcase  crippled  to  abide  ? 

XLV. 

^T  is  but  a  Tent  where  takes  his  one-day's  rest 

A  Sultan  to  the  realm  of  Death  addrest ; 
The  Sultan  rises,  and  the  dark  Ferrash 
Strikes,  and  prepares  it  for  another  Guest* 

XLVL 

And  fear  not  lest  Existence  closing  your 
Account,  and  mine,  should  know  the  like  no  more ; 
The  Eternal  Saki  from  that  Bowl  has  pour'd 
Millions  of  Bubbles  like  us,  and  will  pour. 


OMAR  KHAYYAM  |3 


XLVn. 

When  you  and  I  behind  the  Veil  are  past, 
Oh,  but  the  long,  long  while  the  World  shall  last, 
Which  of  our  Coming  and  Departure  heeds 
As  the  Sea^s  self  should  heed  a  pebble-cast* 

XLvni. 

A  Moment's  Halt — a  momentary  taste 
Of  Being  from  the  Well  amid  the  Waste — 

And  Lo  I — the  phantom  Caravan  has  reached 
The  Nothing  it  set  out  from — Oh,  make  haste  I 

XLIX. 

Would  you  that  spangle  of  Existence  spend 
About  the  secret — quick  about  it.  Friend  I 

A  Hair  perhaps  divides  the  False  and  Truc- 
And  upon  what,  prithee,  may  life  depend? 

A  Hair  perhaps  divides  the  False  and  True; 

Yes ;  and  a  single  Alif  were  the  clue — 

Could  you  but  find  it — to  the  Treasure-house, 
And  peradventure  to  The  Master,  too; 


14  RUBAIYAT  OF 


LL 

Whose  secret  Presence,  through  Creation's  veins 
Running  Quicksilver-Iike  eludes  your  pains ; 

Taking  all  shapes  from  Mah  to  Mahi ; ''  and 
They  change  and  perish  all — but  He  remains ; 

A  moment  guessM — ^then  back  behind  the  Fold 
Immerst  of  Darkness  round  the  Drama  roIPd 
Which,  for  the  Pastime  of  Eternity, 
He  does  Himself  contrive,  enact,  behold* 

Lm. 

But  if  in  vain,  down  on  the  stubborn  floor 

Of  Earth,  and  up  to  Heaven's  unopening  Door, 

You  gaze  To-day,  while  You  are  You — how  then 
To-morrow,  You  when  shall  be  You  no  more? 

LIV. 

Waste  not  your  Hour,  nor  in  the  vain  pursuit 
Of  This  and  That  endeavour  and  dispute ; 
Better  be  jocund  with  the  fruitful  Grape 
Than  sadden  after  none,  or  bitter.  Fruit* 


OMAR  KHAYYA'M  |5 


LV. 

You  know,  my  Friends,  with  what  a  brave  Carouse 
I  made  a  Second  Marriage  in  my  house ; 

Divorced  old  barren  Reason  from  my  Bed, 
And  took  the  Daughter  of  the  Vine  to  Spouse. 

LVI. 

For  ''W  and  '*Is-not^^  though  with  Rule  and  Line/* 
And  **  Up-and-down  ^^  by  Logic  I  define, 
Of  all  that  one  should  care  to  fathom,  I 
Was  never  deep  in  anything  but — Wine. 

Lvn. 

Ah,  but  my  Computations,  People  say. 
Reduced  the  Year  to  better  reckoning  ? — Nay. 
'T  was  only  striking  from  the  Calendar 
Unborn  To-morrow,  and  dead  Yesterday. 

LVffl. 

And  lately,  by  the  Tavern  Door  agape, 
Came  shining  through  the  Dusk  an  Angel  Shape 
Bearing  a  Vessel  on  his  Shoulder;  and 
He  bid  me  taste  of  it ;  and  ^t  was — the  Grape  I 


16  RUBAIYAT  OF 


LDL 

The  Grape  that  can  with  Logic  absolute 
The  Two-and-Seventy  jarring  Sects  confute:'' 
The  sovereign  Alchemist  that  in  a  trice 
Lifers  leaden  metal  into  Gold  transmute : 

The  mighty  Mahmud,  Allah-breathing  Lord, 
That  all  the  misbelieving  and  black  Horde ''° 
Of  Fears  and  Sorrows  that  infest  the  Soul 
Scatters  before  him  with  his  whirlwind  Sword* 

LXL 

Why,  be  this  Juice  the  growth  of  God,  who  dare 
Blaspheme  the  twisted  tendril  as  a  Snare  ? 

A  Blessing,  we  should  use  it,  should  we  not  ? 

And  if  a  Curse — ^why,  then.  Who  set  it  there? 

Lxn. 

I  must  abjure  the  Balm  of  Life,  I  must, 
Scared  by  some  After-reckoning  ta'en  on  trust. 
Or  lured  with  Hope  of  some  Diviner  Drink, 
To  fill  the  Cup — ^when  crumbled  into  Dust  I 


OMAP  KHAYYAM  $y 


Lxm. 

0  threats  of  Hell  and  hopes  of  Paradise ! 
One  thing  at  least  is  certain^ — This  Life  flies; 

One  thing  is  certain  and  the  rest  is  Lies ; 
The  Flower  that  once  has  blown  for  ever  dies* 

LXIV. 

Strange,  is  it  not?  that  of  the  myriads  who 
Before  us  passed  the  door  of  Darkness  through 
Not  one  returns  to  tell  us  of  the  Road> 
Which  to  discover  we  must  travel  too. 

LXV. 

The  Revelations  of  Devout  and  Learned 
Who  rose  before  us,  and  as  Prophets  burned, 

Are  all  but  Stories,  which,  awoke  from  Sleep 
They  told  their  comrades,  and  to  Sleep  returned. 

LXVI. 

1  sent  my  Soul  through  the  Invisible, 
Some  letter  of  that  After-life  to  spell : 

And  by  and  by  my  Soul  returned  to  me. 

And  answered  **  I  Myself  am  Heaven  and  Hell/' 


J8  RUBAIYAT  OF 


Lxvn. 

Heaven  but  the  Vision  of  fuIfilPd  Desire, 
And  Hell  the  Shadow  from  a  Soul  on  fire. 

Cast  on  the  Darkness  into  which  Ourselves, 
So  late  emerged  from,  shall  so  soon  expire* 

Lxvm. 

We  are  no  other  than  a  moving  row 

Of  Magic  Shadow-shapes  that  come  and  go 

Round  with  this  Sun-illuminM  Lantern  held 
In  Midnight  by  the  Master  of  the  Show;" 

LXIX. 

But  helpless  Pieces  of  the  Game  He  plays 
Upon  this  Chequer-board  of  Nights  and  Days ; 

Hither  and  thither  moves,  and  checks,  and  slays, 
And  one  by  one  back  in  the  Closet  lays. 

LXX. 

The  Ball  no  question  makes  of  Ayes  and  Noes, 
But  Here  or  There  as  strikes  the  Player  goes ; 
And  He  that  toss'd  you  down  into  the  Field, 
He  knows  about  it  all — he  knows — He  knows  I  ^ 


OMAR  KHAYYAM  |9 


LXXL 

The  Moving  Finger  writes;  and,  having  writ, 

Moves  on :  nor  all  your  Piety  nor  Wit 

Shall  lure  it  back  to  cancel  half  a  Line, 
Nor  all  your  Tears  wash  out  a  Word  of  it* 

Lxxn. 

And  that  inverted  Bowl  they  call  the  Sky, 
Whereunder  crawling  cooped  we  live  and  die. 

Lift  not  your  hands  to  It  for  help — for  It 

As  impotently  rolls  as  you  or  L 

Lxxin. 

With  Earth's  first  Clay  They  did  the  Last  Man  knead, 
And  there  of  the  Last  Harvest  soVd  the  Seed : 
And  the  first  Morning  of  Creation  wrote 
What  the  Last  Dawn  of  Reckoning  shall  read. 

Lxxrv. 

Yesterday  This  Day's  Madness  did  prepare ; 

To-morrow's  Silence,  Triumph,  or  Despair : 

Drink  1  for  you  know  not  whence  you  came,  nor  why: 
Drink!  for  you  know  not  why  you  go,  nor  where. 


20  ^KUBAIYAT  OF 


LXXV. 

I  tell  you  this — Whcn^  started  from  the  Goal, 
Over  the  flaming  shoulders  of  the  Foal 

Of  Heaven  Parwin  and  Mushtari  they  flung,*^ 
In  my  predestined  Plot  of  Dust  and  Soul 

LXXVI. 

The  Vine  had  struck  a  fibre :  which  about 
K  clings  my  Being — let  the  Dervish  flout; 
Of  my  Base  metal  may  be  filed  a  Key, 
That  shall  unlock  the  Door  he  howls  without* 

LXXVIL 

And  this  I  know :  whether  the  one  True  Light 
Kindle  to  Love,  or  Wrath-consume  me  quite, 
One  Flash  of  It  within  the  Tavern  caught 
Better  than  in  the  Temple  lost  outright. 

Lxxvni. 

What  1  out  of  senseless  Nothing  to  provoke 
A  conscious  Something  to  resent  the  yoke 
Of  unpermitted  Pleasure,  under  pain 
Of  Everlasting  Penalties,  if  broke  1 


OMAP    KHAYYAM  2J 


LXXDC. 

What,  from  his  helpless  Creature  be  repaid 
Pure  Gold  for  what  he  lent  him  dross-allay^d — 
Sue  for  a  Debt  he  never  did  contract. 
And  cannot  answer — Oh  the  sorry  trade  I 

LXXX. 

Oh  Thou,  who  didst  with  pitfall  and  with  gin 

Beset  the  Road  I  was  to  wander  in. 

Thou  wilt  not  with  Predestined  Evil  round 
Enmesh,  and  then  impute  my  Fall  to  Sin  I 

LXXXI. 

Oh,  Thou,  who  Man  of  baser  Earth  didst  make 
And  ev^n  with  Paradise  devise  the  Snake : 

For  all  the  Sin  wherewith  the  Face  of  Man 

Is  blacken^ — Man's  Forgiveness  give — and  take  I 

vjv  «{«  S]C  Sjt 

LXXXIL 

As  under  cover  of  departing  Day 

Slunk  hunger-stricken  Ramazan  away. 

Once  more  within  the  Potter's  house  alone 
I  stood,  surrounded  by  the  Shapes  of  Clay, 


22  RUBAIYAT  OF 


LXXXin. 

Shapes  of  all  Sorts  and  Sizes,  great  and  small, 
That  stood  along  the  floor  and  by  the  wall ; 

And  some  loquacious  Vessels  were ;  and  some 
Listened  perhaps,  but  never  talked  at  all. 

LXXXIV. 

Said  one  among  them — **  Surely  not  in  vain 
My  substance  of  the  common  Earth  was  ta^en 
And  to  this  Figure  moulded,  to  be  broke. 
Or  trampled  back  to  shapeless  Earth  again/' 

LXXXV. 

Then  said  a  Second — **  Ne'er  a  peevish  Boy 
Would  break  the  Bowl  from  which  he  drank  in  joy: 
And  He  that  with  his  hand  the  Vessel  made 
Will  surely  not  in  after  Wrath  destroy/' 

LXXXVI. 

After  a  momentary  silence  spake 
Some  Vessel  of  a  more  ungainly  Make ; 

**  They  sneer  at  me  for  leaning  all  awry : 
What  I  did  the  Hand  then  of  the  Potter  shake  >'' 


OMAR  KHAYYAM  23 


LXXXVIL 

Whereat  some  one  of  the  loquacious  Lot — 
I  think  a  Sufi  pipkin — waxing  hot— 

**  All  this  of  Pot  and  Potter— Tell  me,  then, 
Who  is  the  Potter,  pray,  and  who  the  Pot  ?  ^'  "* 
Lxxxvni. 
**Why,^'  said  another,  ^^Some  there  are  who  tell 
Of  one  who  threatens  he  will  toss  to  Hell 

The  luckless  Pots  he  marr'd  in  making — Pish  I 
He's  a  Good  Fellow,  and  't  will  all  be  well/' 

LXXXIX. 

**  Wei V  murmured  one,  **  Let  whoso  make  or  buy, 
My  Clay  with  long  Oblivion  is  gone  dry : 

But  fill  me  with  the  old  familiar  Juice, 
Methinks  I  might  recover  by  and  by/' 
xc. 
So  while  the  Vessels  one  by  one  were  speaking, 
j-The  little  Moon  look'd  in  that  all  were  seeking  t''^ 
r         And  then  they  jogg'd  each  other,  ''Brother  I  Brother  I 
Now  for  the  Porter's  shoulder-knot  a-creakingl" 


RUBAIYAT  OF 


XCL 

Ah,  with  the  Grape  my  fading  Life  provide, 
And  wash  the  Body  whence  the  Life  has  died, 
And  lay  me,  shrouded  in  the  living  Leaf, 
By  some  not  unfrequented  Garden-side* 

xcn. 

That  ev'n  my  buried  Ashes  such  a  snare 
Of  Vintage  shall  fling  up  into  the  Air 

As  not  a  True-believer  passing  by 

But  shall  be  overtaken  unaware^ 

XCHL 

Indeed  the  Idols  I  have  loved  so  long 

Have  done  my  credit  in  Men's  eyes  much  wrong : 

Have  drowned  my  Glory  in  a  shallow  Cup, 

And  sold  my  Reputation  for  a  Song. 

xciv. 

Indeed,  indeed.  Repentance  oft  before 

I  swore — ^but  was  I  sober  when  I  swore  ? 

And  then  and  then  came  Spring,  and  Rose-in-hand 
My  thread-bare  Penitence  apieces  tore. 


OMAR  KHAYYAM 


XCV. 

And  much  as  Wine  has  play'd  the  Infidel, 
And  robbM  me  of  my  Robe  of  Honour — ^Well, 
I  wonder  often  what  the  Vintners  buy 
One  half  so  precious  as  the  stuff  they  sell* 

xcvi. 

Yet  Ah,  that  Spring  should  vanish  with  the  Rose  I 
That  Youth^s  sweet-scented  manuscript  should  close  I 
The  Nightingale  that  in  the  branches  sang, 
Ah  whence,  and  whither  flown  again,  who  knows. 

XCVIL 

Would  but  the  Desert  of  the  Fountain  yield 
One  glimpse — if  dimly,  yet  indeed,  reveaPd, 

To  which  the  fainting  Traveller  might  spring. 
As  springs  the  trampled  herbage  of  the  field  I 

xcvm. 

Would  but  some  winged  Angel  ere  too  late 
Arrest  the  yet  unfolded  Roll  of  Fate, 

And  make  the  stern  Recorder  otherwise 

Enregister,  or  quite  obliterate  I 


J6  RUBAIYAT  OF 


XCDL 

Ah  Love !  could  you  and  I  with  Him  conspire 
To  grasp  this  sorry  Scheme  of  Things  entire, 
Would  not  we  shatter  it  to  bits — ^and  then 
^    Re-mould  it  nearer  to  the  Hearths  Desire  I 

^  •t"  •!•  1! 

a 

Yon  rising  Moon  that  looks  for  us  again — 
How  oft  hereafter  will  she  wax  and  wane ; 

How  oft  hereafter  rising  look  for  us 

Through  this  same  Garden— and  for  one  in  vain  . 

CL 

And  when  like  her,  oh  Saki,  you  shall  pass 
Among  the  Guests  Star-scatter'd  on  the  Grass, 
And  in  your  joyous  errand  reach  the  spot 
Where  I  made  One — ^turn  down  an  empty  Glass  I 


TAMAM, 


OMAR  KHAYYAM  Ti 


RUBAIYAT 

OF 

OMAR  KHAYYAM  OF  NAISHAPUR 

FIRST  EDITION. 

WAKE  I  for  Morning  in  the  Bowl  of  Night 


Has  flung  the  Stone  that  puts  the  Stars  to 
Flight: 

And  Lo  I  the  Hunter  of  the  East  has  caught 
The  Sultanas  Turret  in  a  Noose  of  Light, 

I  °* 

Dreaming,  when  Dawn^s  Left  Hand  was  in  the  Sky, 

^  I  heard  a  Voice  within  the  Tavern  cry, 

**  Awake,  my  Little  ones,  and  fill  the  Cup 

**  Before  Lifers  Liquor  in  its  Cup  be  dry/' 


28  KUBAIYAT  OF 


m. 

And,  as  the  Cock  crew,  those  who  stood  before 
The  Tavern  shouted — *^Open  then  the  Door ! 

**  You  know  how  little  while  we  have  to  stay, 
**  And,  once  departed,  may  return  no  more/^ 

IV. 

Now,  the  New  Year  reviving  old  Desires, 

The  thoughtful  Soul  to  Solitude  retires, 

Where  the  White  Hand  of  Moses  on  the  Bough 
Puts  out,  and  Jesus  from  the  Ground  suspires. 

V. 

Iram  indeed  is  gone  with  all  its  Rose, 

And  Jamshyd^s  Sev^n-ring'd  Cup  where  no  one  knows; 
But  still  the  Vine  her  ancient  Ruby  yields. 
And  still  a  Garden  by  the  Water  blows. 

VI. 

And  David's  Lips  are  lock't ;  but  in  divine 
High  piping  Pehlevi,  with  ''Wine!  Wine  I  Wine  I 
"i?^(/ Wine  P'— the  Nightingale  cries  to  the  Rose 
That  yellow  Check  of  her's  to  'incarnadine. 


OMAR  KHAYYAM  29 


vn. 

Come,  fill  the  Cup,  and  in  the  Fire  of  Spring 
The  Winter  Garment  of  Repentance  fling : 
The  Bird  of  Time  has  but  a  little  way 
To  fly — and  Lo !  the  Bird  is  on  the  Wing. 

vm. 

And  look — a  thousand  Blossoms  with  the  Day 
Woke — and  a  thousand  scattered  into  Clay : 

And  this  first  Summer  Month  that  brings  the  Rose 
Shall  take  Jamshyd  and  Kaikobad  away. 

DC. 

But  come  with  old  Khayyam,  and  leave  the  Lot 

Of  Kaikobad  and  Kaikhosru  forgot : 

Let  Rustum  lay  about  him  as  he  will, 

Or  Hatim  Tai  cry  Supper — heed  them  not. 

X. 

With  me  along  some  Strip  of  Herbage  strown 
That  just  divides  the  desert  from  the  sown. 

Where  name  of  Slave  and  Sultan  scarce  is  known. 
And  pity  Sultan  Mahmud  on  his  Throne. 


WBAIYAT  OF 


XI. 

Here  with  a  Loaf  of  Bread  beneath  the  Bought 
A  Flask  of  Wine,  a  Book  of  Verse — and  Thou 

Beside  me  singing  in  the  Wilderness — 

And  Wilderness  is  Paradise  enow* 

xn. 

^  How  sweet  is  mortal  Sovranty  I '' — think  some : 
Others — ^*  How  blest  the  Paradise  to  come  F^ 

Ah,  take  the  Cash  in  hand  and  waive  the  Rest ; 

Oh,  the  brave  Music  of  a  distant  Drum  1 

xin. 

Look  to  the  Rose  that  blows  about  us — '*  Lo, 
*' Laughing/'  she  says,  'Mnto  the  World  I  blow: 
^*  At  once  the  silken  Tassel  of  my  Purse 
*^  Tear,  and  its  Treasure  on  the  Garden  throw/' 

XIV. 

The  Worldly  Hope  men  set  their  hearts  upon 
Turns  Ashes — or  it  prospers ;  and  anon, 
Like  Snow  upon  the  Desert's  dusty  Face 
Lighting  a  little  Hour  or  two — is  gone. 


OMAR  KHAYYAM  31 


XV. 

And  those  who  husbanded  the  Golden  Grain, 
And  those  who  flung  it  to  the  Winds  like  Rain, 
Alike  to  no  such  aureate  Earth  are  turnM 
As,  buried  once,  Men  want  dug  up  again* 

XVL 

Think,  in  this  battered  Caravanserai 
Whose  Doorways  are  alternate  Night  and  Day, 
How  Sultan  after  Sultan  with  his  Pomp 
Abode  his  Hour  or  two,  and  went  his  way* 

xvn* 

They  say  the  Lion  and  the  Lizard  keep 
The  Courts  where  Jamshyd  gloried  and  drank  deep: 
And  Bahram,  that  great  Hunter — the  Wild  Ass 
Stamps  o'er  his  Head,  and  he  lies  fast  asleep^ 

xvin. 

I  sometimes  think  that  never  blows  so  red 
The  Rose  as  where  some  buried  Caesar  bled ; 
That  every  Hyacinth  the  Garden  wears 
Dropt  in  its  Lap  from  some  once  lovely  Head* 


RUBAIYAT  OF 


XK. 

And  this  delightful  Herb  whose  tender  Green 
Fledges  the  Riveras  Lip  on  which  we  lean — 
Ah,  lean  upon  it  lightly !  for  who  knows 
From  what  once  lovely  Lip  it  springs  unseen ! 

XX. 

Ah,  my  Beloved,  fill  the  Cup  that  clears 
To-day  of  past  Regrets  and  future  Fears — 

To-morrow  ? — Why,  To-morrow  I  may  be 
Myself  with  Yesterday^s  Sev'n  Thousand  Years. 

XXI. 

Lol  some  we  loved,  the  loveliest  and  best 
That  Time  and  Fate  of  all  their  Vintage  prest, 
Have  drunk  their  Cup  a  Round  or  two  before. 
And  one  by  one  crept  silently  to  Rest* 

xxn. 

And  we,  that  now  make  merry  in  the  Room 
They  left,  and  Summer  dresses  in  new  Bloom, 

Ourselves  must  we  beneath  the  Couch  of  Earth 
Descend,  ourselves  to  make  a  Couch — for  whom  ? 


OMAR  KHAYYAM  33 


xxm. 

Ah,  make  the  most  of  what  wc  yet  may  spend, 

Before  we  too  into  the  Dust  descend ; 

Dust  into  Dust,  and  under  Dust,  to  lie, 

Sans  Wine,  sans  Song,  sans  Singer,  and — sans  End! 

xxrv. 

Alike  for  those  who  for  To-day  prepare. 

And  those  that  after  a  To-morrow  stare, 

A  Muezzin  from  the  Tower  of  Darkness  cries 

^^  Fool  I  your  Reward  is  neither  Here  nor  There!  " 

XXV. 

Why,  all  the  Saints  and  Sages  who  discussM 
Of  the  Two  Worlds  so  learnedly,  are  thrust 

Like  foolish  Prophets  forth ;  their  words  to  Scorn 
Are  scatter^,  and  their  Mouths  are  stopt  with  Dust* 

XXVI. 

Oh,  come  with  old  Khayyam,  and  leave  the  Wise 
To  talk ;  one  thing  is  certain,  that  Life  flies ; 

One  thing  is  certain,  and  the  Rest  is  Lies ; 

The  Flower  that  once  has  blown  for  ever  dies* 


34  RUBAIYAT  OF 


xxvn. 

Myself  when  young  did  eagerly  frequent 
Doctor  and  Saint,  and  heard  great  Argument 
About  it  and  about :  but  evermore 
Came  out  by  the  same  Door  as  in  I  went. 

XXVIIL 

With  them  the  Seed  of  Wisdom  did  I  sow, 
And  with  my  own  hand  laboured  it  to  grow : 
And  this  was  all  the  Harvest  that  I  reaped 
**  I  came  like  Water,  and  like  Wind  I  go/' 

XXIX. 

Into  this  Universe,  and  ^y  not  knowing. 
Nor  li^hencey  like  Water  willy-nilly  flowing: 
And  out  of  it,  as  Wind  along  the  Waste, 
I  know  not  'ivhither,  willy-nilly  blowing* 

XXX. 

What,  without  asking,  hither,  hurried  ^whence  ? 

And,  without  asking,  ^ivhither  hurried  hence  I 
Another  and  another  Cup  to  drown 
The  Memory  of  this  Impertinence  ! 


OMAR    KHAYYAM  35 


XXXI. 

Up  from  Earth^s  Centre  through  the  Seventh  Gate 
I  rose,  and  on  the  Throne  of  Saturn  sate, 

And  many  Knots  unraveled  by  the  Road ; 

But  not  the  Knot  of  Human  Death  and  Fate. 

xxxn. 

There  was  a  Door  to  which  I  found  no  Key : 
There  was  a  Veil  past  which  I  could  not  see : 
Some  little  Talk  awhile  of  Me  and  Thee 
There  seemed — and  then  no  more  of  Thee  and  Me. 

xxxm. 

Then  to  the  rolling  Heaven  itself  I  cried, 
Asking,  **  What  Lamp  had  Destiny  to  guide 

''Her  Little  Children  stumbling  in  the  Dark?'' 
And — ^*  A  blind  Understanding  I ''  Heav'n  replied. 

XXXIV. 

Then  to  this  earthen  Bowl  did  I  adjourn 

My  Lip  the  secret  Well  of  Life  to  learn : 

And  Lip  to  Lip  it  murmured — ''While  you  live 
"  Drink  I — for  once  dead  you  never  shall  return/' 


RUBAIYAT  OF 


XXXV. 

I  think  the  Vessel,  that  with  fugitive 

Articulation  answer^,  once  did  live. 

And  merry-make ;  and  the  cold  Lip  I  kissed 
How  many  Kisses  might  it  take — and  givz  1 

XXXVI. 

For  in  the  Market-place,  one  Dusk  of  Day, 
I  watched  the  Potter  thumping  his  wet  Clay : 
And  with  its  all  obliterated  Tongue 
It  murmured — '*  Gently,  Brother,  gently,  pray  I** 

XXXVII. 

Ah,  fill  the  Cup : — what  boots  it  to  repeat 
How  Time  is  slipping  underneath  our  Feet : 
Unborn  To-morrow  and  dead  Yesterday, 
Why  fret  about  them  if  To-day  be  sweet  I 

[Ffom  Preface. 

Oh,  if  my  soul  can  fling  his  Dust  aside. 

And  naked  on  the  Air  of  Heaven  ride. 

Is  ^t  not  a  Shame,  is  't  not  a  Shame  for  Him 
So  long  in  this  Clay  Suburb  to  abide  ? 


OMAJ^  KHAYYAM  37 


Or  is  that  but  a  Tent,  where  rests  anon 

A  Sultan  to  his  Kingdom  passing  on, 

And  which  the  swarthy  Chamberlain  shall  strike 
Then  when  the  Sultan  rises  to  be  gone  ?] 

XXXVHL 

One  Moment  in  Annihilation's  Waste, 
One  Moment,  of  the  Well  of  Life  to  taste — 
The  Stars  are  setting  and  the  Caravan 
Starts  for  the  Dawn  of  Nothing — Oh,  make  haste  I 

XXXIX. 

How  long,  how  long,  in  infinite  Pursuit 
Of  This  and  That  endeavour  and  dispute  ? 
Better  be  merry  with  the  fruitful  Grape, 
Than  sadden  after  none,  or  bitter.  Fruit* 

XL. 

You  know,  my  Friends,  how  long  since  in  my  House 
For  a  new  Marriage  I  did  make  Carouse : 

Divorced  old  barren  Reason  from  my  Bed, 
And  took  the  Daughter  of  the  Vine  to  Spouse 


RUBAIYAT  OF 


XLL 

For  ''Is'*  and  ''Is-nof'  though  l:t>ith  Rule  and  Line, 
And  ''  Up-and-down  ^*  without,  I  could  define, 
I  yet  in  all  I  only  cared  to  know, 
Was  never  deep  in  anything  but — Wine. 

XLIL 

And  lately,  hy  the  Tavern  Door  agape. 
Came  stealing  through  the  Dusk  an  Angel  Shape 
Bearing  a  Vessel  on  his  Shoulder ;  and 
He  bid  me  taste  of  it ;   and  \  was — the  Grape  1 

XLIIL 

The  Grape  that  can  with  Logic  absolute 
The  Two-and-Seventy  jarring  Sects  confute : 
The  subtle  Alchemist  that  in  a  Trice 
Life's  leaden  Metal  into  Gold  transmute. 

XLIV, 

The  mighty  Mahmud,  the  victorious  Lord, 
That  all  the  misbelieving  and  black  Horde 

Of  Fears  and  Sorrows  that  infest  the  Soul 
Scatters  and  slays  with  his  enchanted  S'^rord 


OMAIi  KHAYYAM  39 


XLV. 

But  leave  the  Wise  to  wrangle,  and  with  mc 

The  Quarrel  of  the  Universe  let  be : 

And  in  some  corner  of  the  Hubbub  coucht. 

Make  Game  of  that  which  makes  as  much  of  Thee. 

XLVI. 

For  in  and  out,  above,  about,  below, 

*T  is  nothing  but  a  Magic  Shadow-show, 

Play'd  in  a  Box  whose  Candle  is  the  Sun, 
Round  which  we  Phantom  Figures  come  and  go. 

XLvn. 

And  if  the  Wine  you  drink,  the  Lip  you  press. 
End  in  the  Nothing  all  Things  end  in — Yes — 

Then  fancy  while  Thou  art.  Thou  art  but  what 
Thou  shalt  be — Nothing — Thou  shalt  not  be  less. 

XLVIIL 

While  the  Rose  blows  along  the  River  Brink, 
With  old  Khayyam  the  Ruby  Vintage  drink: 

And  when  the  Angel  with  his  darker  Draught 
Draws  up  to  Thee — take  that,  and  do  not  shrink. 


40  RUBAIYAT  OF 


XLDC. 

'T  is  all  a  Chcqucr-board  of  Nights  and  Days 
Where  Destiny  with  Men  for  Pieces  plays : 

Hither  and  thither  moves,  and  mates,  and  slays. 
And  one  by  one  back  in  the  Closet  lays^ 

L. 

The  Ball  no  Question  makes  of  Ayes  and  Noes, 
But  Right  or  Left,  as  strikes  the  Player,  goes ; 

And  He  that  tossM  Thee  down  into  the  Field, 
He  knows  about  it  all — He  knows — He  knows  I 

LL 

The  Moving  Finger  writes;  and,  having  writ. 

Moves  on :  nor  all  thy  Piety  nor  Wit 

Shall  lure  it  back  to  cancel  half  a  Line, 
Nor  all  thy  Tears  wash  out  a  Word  of  it* 

LH. 

And  that  inverted  Bowl  we  call  The  Sky, 
Whereunder  crawling  coop^t  we  live  and  die. 

Lift  not  thy  hands  to  It  for  help — ^for  If 

Rolls  impotently  on  as  Thou  or  L 


OMAR  KHAYYAM  4l 


Lm. 

With  Earth's  first  Clay  They  did  the  Last  Man's  knead, 
And  then  of  the  Last  Harvest  soVd  the  Seed : 
Yea,  the  first  Morning  of  Creation  wrote 
What  the  Last  Dawn  of  Reckoning  shall  read* 

LTV. 

I  tell  Thee  this — When,  starting  from  the  Goal, 

Over  the  shoulders  of  the  flaming  Foal 

Of  Heav'n  Parwin  and  Mushtari  they  flung. 
In  my  predestined  Plot  of  Dust  and  Soul 

LV. 

The  Vine  had  struck  a  Fibre ;  which  about 

K  clings  my  Being — let  the  Sufi  flout; 

Of  my  Base  Metal  may  be  filed  a  Key, 

That  shall  unlock  the  Door  he  howls  without. 

LVL 

And  this  I  know :  whether  the  one  True  Light, 
Kindle  to  Love,  or  Wrath-consume  me  quite. 
One  Glimpse  of  It  within  the  Tavern  caught 
Better  than  in  the  Temple  lost  outright. 


'BSJBArYAT  OF 


LVU 

Oh,  Thou,  who  didst  with  Pitfall  and  with  Gin 

Beset  the  Road  I  was  to  wander  in, 

Thou  wilt  not  with  Predestination  round 
Enmesh  me,  and  impute  my  Fall  to  Sin  ? 

Lvra. 

Oh,  Thou,  who  man  of  baser  Earth  didst  make 
And  who  with  Eden  didst  devise  the  Snake; 
For  all  the  Sin  wherewith  the  Face  of  Man 
Is  blacken'd,  Man^s  Forgiveness  give — and  take  1 


KUZA-NAMA. 

LDC 

Listen  again.    One  Evening  at  the  Close 
Of  Ramazan,  ere  the  better  Moon  arose. 
In  that  old  Potter's  Shop  I  stood  alone 
With  the  clay  Population  round  in  Rows, 


OMAl^  KHAYYAM  43 


LX. 

And,  strange  to  tcII,  among  that  Earthen  Lot 

Some  could  articulate,  while  others  not : 

And  suddenly  one  more  impatient  cried — 

''  Who  is  the  Potter,  pray,  and  who  the  Pot  ? '' 

LXL 

Then  said  another— ^^  Surely  not  in  vain 
**  My  Substance  from  the  common  Earth  was  ta^en, 
**  That  He  who  subtly  wrought  me  into  Shape 
'*  Should  stamp  me  back  to  common  Earth  again/' 

LXIL 

Another  said — **  Why,  ne'er  a  peevish  Boy, 
**  Would  break  the  Bowl  from  which  he  drank  in  Joy ; 
**  Shall  He  that  made  the  Vessel  in  pure  Love 
**  And  Fansy,  in  an  after  Rage  destroy  I '' 

Lxm. 

None  answered  this ;  but  after  Silence  spake 
A  Vessel  of  a  more  ungainly  Make  : 

**  They  sneer  at  me  for  leaning  all  awry ; 

**  What  I  did  the  Hand  then  of  the  Potter  shake  ?  ^ 


44  RUBAIYAT  OF 


Lxrv. 
Said  one — *' Folks  of  a  surly  Tapster  tell, 
''And  daub  his  Visage  with  the  Smoke  of  Hell; 
*'  They  talk  of  some  strict  Testing  of  us — ^Pish  I 
''He's  a  Good  Fellow,  and  't  will  all  be  well/' 

LXV. 

Then  said  another  with  a  long-drawn  Sigh, 
"  My  Clay  with  long  oblivion  is  gone  dry : 
"  But,  fill  me  with  the  old  familiar  Juice, 
"Methinks  I  might  recover  by-and-bye ! '' 

LXVI. 

So  while  the  Vessels  one  by  one  were  speakings 
One  spied  the  little  Crescent  all  were  seeking : 

And  then  they  Jogg'd  each  other,  "Brother !  Brother  I 
"Hark  to  the  Porter's  Shoulder-knot  a-creakingi" 
*  *  *  * 

LXVIL 

Ah,  with  the  Grape  my  fading  Life  provide, 
And  wash  my  Body  whence  the  Life  has  died. 
And  in  the  Windingsheet  of  Vine-leaf  wrapt. 
So  bury  me  by  some  sweet  Garden-side^ 


OMAP  KHAYYAM 


LXVin, 

That  cv*n  my  buried  Ashes  such  a  Snare 
Of  Perfume  shall  fling  up  into  the  Air, 

As  not  a  True  Believer  passing  by 

But  shall  be  overtaken  unaware. 

LXDC. 

Indeed  the  Idols  I  have  loved  so  long 

Have  done  my  Credit  in  Men's  Eye  much  wrong : 

Have  drowned  my  Honour  in  a  shallow  Cup, 

And  sold  my  Reputation  for  a  Song. 

LXX. 

Indeed,  indeed,  Repentance  oft  before 

I  swore — ^but  was  I  sober  when  I  swore  ? 

And  then  and  then  came  Spring,  and  Rose-in-hand 
My  thread-bare  Penitence  apieces  tore. 

LXXI. 

And  much  as  Wine  has  played  the  Infidel, 
And  robbed  me  of  my  Robe  of  Honour — ^well, 
I  often  wonder  what  the  Vintners  buy 
One  half  so  precious  as  the  Goods  they  sell. 


RUBAIYAT  OF 


Lxxn. 
Alas,  that  Spring  should  vanish  with  the  Rose  I 
That  Youth's  sweet-scented  Manuscript  should  close! 
The  Nightingale  that  in  the  Branches  sang, 
Ah,  whence,  and  whither  flown  again,  who  knows  I 
Lxxm. 
Ah  Love  1  could  thou  and  I  with  Fate  conspire 
To  grasp  this  sorry  Scheme  of  things  entire, 
Would  not  we  shatter  it  to  bits — and  then 
Re-mould  it  nearer  to  the  Heart's  Desire  I 
Lxxrv. 
Ah,  Moon  of  my  Delight  who  know'st  no  wane. 
The  Moon  of  HeaVn  is  rising  once  again : 
How  oft  hereafter  rising  shall  she  look 
Through  this  same  Garden  after  me — in  vain ! 

LXXV- 

And  when  Thyself  with  shining  Foot  shalt  pass 
Among  the  Guests  Star-scattered  on  the  Grass, 
And  in  thy  joyous  errand  reach  the  Spot 
Where  I  made  one — turn  down  an  empty  Glass  I 

TAMAM  SHUD. 


NOTES 


NOTES. 


[The  references  are,  except  in  the  first  note  only^  to  the 
Stanzas  of  the  Fourth  Edition*] 

(Stanza  First,  First  EditionO  Flingingf  a  Stone 
into  the  Cup  was  the  sigfnal  for  **  To  Horse !  ^  in  the 
desert* 

(II)  '  The  "  False  T>a^n'';  Subhi  Kazib,  a  tran- 
sient Light  on  the  Horizon  about  an  hour  before  the 
Subhi sadik,  or  True  Dawn;  a  well-known  Phenom- 
enon in  the  East* 

(IV)  '^New  Year*  Beginning:  with  the  Vernal 
Equinox,  it  must  be  remembered ;  and  (howsoever  the 
old  Solar  Year  i^  practicaky  superseded  by  the  clumsy 
Lunar  year  that  dates  from  the  Mohammedan  Htjra) 
still  commemorated  by  a  Festival  that  is  said  to  have 
been  appointed  by  the  very  Jamshyd  whom  Omar  so 
often  talks  of,  and  whose  yearly  Calendar  he  helped  to 
rectify* 

'*  The  sudden  approach  and  rapid  advance  of  the 
Spring,^  says  Mr.  Binning,  ''are  very  striking*  Before 
the  Snow  is  well  off  the  Ground,  the  Trees  burst  into 
Blossom,  and  the  Flowers  start  from  the  Soil*  At  Na^w 
Rooz  {their  New  Year's  Day)  the  Snow  was  lying  in 
patches  on  the  Hills  and  in  the  shaded  Vallies,  while 
the  Fruit-trees  in  the  Garden  were  budding  beautifully, 

49 


50  NOTES 


and  gfreen  Plants  and  Flowers  sprmgingf  upon  the 
Plains  on  every  side — 

*  And  on  old  Hyems'  Chin  and  icy  Cf  own 
An  odorous  Chaplet  of  sweet  Summer  buds 
Is»  as  in  mockery/  set — 

Among:  the  Plants  newly  appearM  I  recogfnized  some 
Acquaintances  I  had  not  seen  for  many  a  Year :  among: 
these,  two  varieties  of  the  Thistle ;  a  coarse  species  of 
the  Daisy,  like  the  Horse-gfowan;  red  and  white  Clover; 
the  Dock;  the  blue  Corn-flower;  and  thatvulgfar  Herb 
the  Dandelion  rearing:  its  yellow  crest  on  the  Banks  of 
the  "Watercourses*^  The  Nig:hting:ale  was  not  yet 
heard,  for  the  Rose  was  not  yet  blown ;  but  an  almost 
identical  Blackbird  and  Woodpecker  helped  to  make  up 
something:  of  a  North-country  Spring:. 

(IV)  'Exodus  iv,  6;  where  Moses  draws  forth  his 
Hand — not,  according:  to  the  Persians,  ** leprous  as 
Snom)/^ — ^but  <iuh(ie,  as  our  May-blossom  in  Spring: 
perhaps*  According:  to  them  also  the  Healing:  Power 
of  Jesus  resided  in  his  Breath* 

(V)  *Iram,  planted  by  King:  Shaddad,  and  now 
sunk  somewhere  in  the  Sands  of  Arabia*  Jamshyd's 
Seven-ring'd  Cup  was  typical  of  the  7  Heavens,  7 
Planets,  7  Seas,  &c.,  and  was  a  Drvining  Cup* 

(VI)  ''PehteUf  the  old  Heroic  Sanskrit  of  Persia* 
Haf  iz  also  speaks  of  the  Nig:hting:ale's  ^ehle^if  which 
did  not  chang:e  with  the  People's* 


NOTES  51 

•  I  am  not  sure  if  this  refers  to  the  Red  Rose  looking: 
sickly,  or  the  Yellow  Rose  that  ougfht  to  be  Red ;  Red, 
White,  and  Yellow  Roses  all  common  in  Persia*  I 
think  Southey,  in  his  Common-Place  Book,  quotes  from 
some  Spanish  author  about  the  Rose  beingf  White  till 
JOo^clock;  **Rosa  Perfecta^  at  2;  and  '^perfecta  in- 
camada  ^  at  5* 

(X)  'Rustum,  the  '' Hercules  ^  of  Persia,  and  ZaI 
his  Father,  whose  exploits  are  among  the  most  cele- 
brated in  the  Shah-nama,  Hatim  Tai,  a  well-known 
Type  of  Oriental  Generosity. 

(XIII)  *  A  Drum— beaten  outside  a  Palace* 

(XIV)  'That  is,  the  Rose's  Golden  Centre. 

(XVIII)  '"Persepolis:  called  also  TakWi  J^mshyd 
— The  Throne  of  Jamshyd,  ^*King  Splendid/'  of  the 
mythical  Peeshdadian  Dynasty,  and  supposed  (accord- 
ing to  the  Shah-nama)  to  have  been  founded  and  built 
by  him.  Others  refer  it  to  the  "Work  of  the  Genie 
King,  Jan  Ibn  Jan — who  also  built  the  Pyramids — 
before  the  time  of  Adam. 

Bahram  Gur — Bahram  of  the  Wild  Ass — a  Sass- 
anian  Sovereign — had  also  his  Seven  Castles  (like  the 
King  of  Bohemia !)  each  of  a  different  Colour :  each 
with  a  Royal  Mistress  within ;  each  of  whom  tells  him 
a  Story,  as  told  in  one  of  the  most  famous  Poems  of 
Persia,  written  by  Amir  Khusraw:  all  these  Sevens 
also  figuring   (according  to  Eastern  Mysticism)  the 


S2  NOTES 

Seven  Heavens;  and  perhaps  the  Book  itself  that 
Eighth,  into  which  the  mystical  Seven  transcend,  and 
within  which  they  revolve.  The  Ruins  of  Three  of 
these  Towers  are  yet  shown  by  the  Peasantry;  as  also 
the  Swamp  in  which  Bahram  sunk,  like  the  Master  of 
Ravenswood,  while  pursuingf  his  Gur* 

The  Palace  that  to  Heav'n  his  pillars  threw. 
And  Kings  the  forehead  on  his  threshold  drew — 

I  saw  the  solitary  Ringdove  there. 
And  **  Coo,  coo,  coo,"  she  cried  j  and  **  Coo,  coo,  coo.'' 

This  Quatrain  Mr,  Binning:  found,  among:  several 
of  Hafiz  and  others,  inscribed  by  some  stray  hand 
amongf  the  ruins  of  Persepolis,  The  Ringdove's  an- 
cient Pehle^i  Coo,  Coo,  Coo,  signifies  also  in  Persian 
''Where?  Where?  Where?''  In  Attar's  '^Bird- 
parliament  ^  she  is  reproved  by  the  Leader  of  the  Birds 
for  sitting  still,  and  for  ever  harping  on  that  one  note 
of  lamentation  for  her  lost  Yusuf . 

Apropos  of  Omar's  Red  Roses  in  Stanza  zix*,  I 
am  reminded  of  an  old  English  Superstition,  that  our 
Anemone  Pulsatilla,  or  purple  ^'Pasque  Flower,'^  (which 
grows  plentifully  about  the  Fleam  Dyke,  near  Cam- 
bridge), grows  only  where  Danish  blood  has  been  spilth 

(XXI)  "  A  thousand  years  to  each  Planet, 

(XXXI)  *^  Saturn,  Lord  of  the  Seventh  Heaven, 

(XXXII)  "Me-and-Thee:  some  dividual  Exist- 
ence Of  Personality  distinct  from  the  Whole. 


NOTES  53 

(XXXVH)  "One  of  the  Persian  Poets— Attar,  I 
think — has  a  pretty  story  about  this«  A  thirsty  Trav- 
eller dips  his  hand  into  a  Spring;  of  "Water  to  drink  from. 
By  and  by  comes  another  who  draws  tip  and  drinks 
from  an  earthen  Bowl,  and  then  departs,  leaving  his 
Bowl  behind  him.  The  first  Traveller  takes  it  up  for 
another  draught ;  but  is  surprised  to  find  that  the  same 
"Water  which  had  tasted  sweet  from  his  own  hand  tastes 
bitter  from  the  earthen  Bowl.  But  a  Voice — from 
Heaven,  I  think — tells  him  the  Clay  from  which  the 
Bowl  i&  made  was  once  Man;  and,  into  whatever 
shape  renewed,  can  never  lose  the  bitter  flavour  of 
Mortality. 

(XXXIX)  ^^  The  custom  of  throwing  a  little  "Wine 
on  the  ground  before  drinking  still  continues  in  Persia, 
and  perhaps  generally  in  the  East.  Monsieur  Nicolas 
considers  it  **  un  signe  6€.  liberalitc,  et  en  mcme  temps 
un  avertissement  que  le  buveur  doit  vider  sa  coupe 
fusqu^a  la  dernicre  goutte.'^  Is  it  not  more  likely  an 
ancient  Superstition ;  a  Libation  to  propitiate  Earth,  or 
make  her  an  Accomplice  in  the  illicit  Revel  ?  Or.  per- 
haps to  divert  the  Jealous  Eye  by  some  sacrifice  of 
superfluity,  as  with  the  Ancients  of  the  "West  ?  "With 
Omar  we  sec  something  more  is  signified ;  the  precious 
Liquor  iS  not  lost,  but  sinks  into  the  ground  to  refresh 
the  dust  of  some  poor  "Wine-worshipper  foregone. 

Thus  Hafiz,  copying  Omar  in  so  many  ways: 
""When  thou  drinkest  "Wine  pour  a  draught  on  the 


54  NOTES 


gfrotind*      Wherefore   fear    the    Sin   which  bringfs  to 
another  Gain  ? '' 

(XLIII)  ^*  According:  to  one  beautiful  Oriental 
Legend,  Azrael  accomplishes!  his  mission  by  holding  to 
the  nostril  an  Apple  from  the  Tree  of  Life. 

This,  and  the  two  following  Stanzas  would  have 
been  withdrawn,  as  somewhat  de  trop,  from  the  Text 
but  for  advice  which  I  least  like  to  disregard. 

(LI)  "From  Mah  to  Mahi;  from  Fish  to  Moon 

(LVI)  **A  Jest,  of  course,  at  his  Studies.  A 
curious  mathematical  Quatrain  of  Omar's  has  been 
pointed  out  to  me ;  the  more  curious  because  ahnost 
exactly  paralleled  by  some  Verses  of  Doctor  Donne's, 
that  are  quoted  in  Izaak  Walton's  Lives!  Here  is 
Omar :  *' You  and  I  are  the  image  of  a  pair  of  com- 
passes; though  we  have  two  heads  (scour  feet)  we 
have  one  body ;  when  we  have  fixed  the  centre  for  our 
circle,  we  bring  our  heads  (sc.  feet)  together  at  the 
end.'*    Dr.  Donne : 

If  we  he  two,  wc  two  arc  so 

As  stiff  twin-compasses  are  two ; 
Tfiy  Soul,  the  f ixt  foot,  makes  no  show 

To  movc>  bat  docs  if  the  other  do. 

And  though  thine  in  the  centre  sit, 

Yet  when  my  other  far  does  roam. 
Thine  leans  and  hearkens  after  it, 

And  grows  erect  as  mine  comes  home. 


NOTES  55 

Such  thou  must  be  to  met  who  must 

Like  the  other  foot  obliquely  run  j 
Thy  firmness  makes  my  circle  just. 

And  me  to  end  where  I  begun. 

(LK)  "The  Seventy-two  Religions  supposed  to 
6Widc  the  "World,  including  Islamism,  as  some  think  j 
but  others  not* 

(LX)  '"Alluding:  to  Sultan  Mahmud's  Conquest 
of  India  and  its  dark  people* 

(LXVIII)  '^^  Fanusi  khiyal,  a  magic-lanthorn  still 
used  in  India;  the  cylindrical  Interior  beingf  painted 
with  various  Figures,  and  so  lightly  poised  and  venti- 
lated as  to  revolve  round  the  lighted  Candle  within* 

(LXX)  "A  very  mysterious  Line  in  the  OriginaL 

O  danad  O  danad  O  danad  O 

breaking  off  something  like  our  Wood-pigeon's  Note, 
which  she  is  said  to  take  up  just  where  she  left  off* 

(LXXV)  ''Parwin  and  Mushtari— The  Pleiads 
and  Jupiter. 

(LXXXVII)  '*This  relation  of  Pot  and  Potter  to 
Man  and  his  Maker  figures  far  and  wide  in  the  Liter- 
ature of  the  World,  from  the  time  of  the  Hebrew 
Prophets  to  the  present ;  when  it  may  finally  take  the 
name  of  **  Pottheism,''  by  which  Mr*  Carlyle  ridiculed 
Sterling's  **  Pantheism*''  My  Sheikh,  whose  knowledge 
flows  in  from  all  quarters,  writes  to  me — 


56  NOTES 

^Apropos  of  old  Omar^s  Pots,  616.  I  ever  tell  you 
the  sentence  I  found  in  'Bishop  Pearson  on  the  Creed'  "i*^ 
**  Thus  arc  we  wholly  at  the  disposal  of  His  will,  and 
our  present  and  future  condition,  framed  and  ordered  by 
His  free,  but  wise  and  just,  decrees*  ^  HM  not  the  pot- 
ter pcywer  over  the  day,  of  the  same  tump  to  make  one 
n>essetunto  honour,  and  another  unto  dishonor?  "  (Rom« 
ix«  210  And  can  that  earth-artificer  have  a  freer  power 
over  his  brother  potsherd  (both  being;  made  of  the  same 
metal),  than  God  hath  over  him,  who,  by  the  strangle 
fecundity  of  His  omnipotent  power,  first  made  the  clay 
out  of  nothingf,  and  then  him  out  of  that  ?  ^ 

And  agfain — from  a  very  different  quarter — ^I  had 
to  refer  the  other  day  to  Aristophanes,  and  came  by 
chance  on  a  curious  Speakingf-pot  story  in  the  Vespae, 
which  I  had  quite  forgfotten* 

^tXoKXetov.       Akovc,  {XTj  <}>evy  •  iv  ^v/idpei  yvv^  irort  '''435 

Karrjyopo<S'       Tavr*  iyia  /xapTvpoixai. 

^L.  Ov;^ti/os  ovv  €)^(av  Ttv  lirepiaprv paro* 

Et^'  ri  5v/3a/)iris  cittcv,  €t  rat  tolv  Kopav 
r-qv  fJuapTvpiav  ravrrjv  «a(ras,  iv  rd)^ci 
iiTLSeOfjiov  CTT/Dto),  vovv  av  c'x^'  irXcLOva. 

**  The  Pot  calls  a  bystander  to  be  a  witness  to  his 
bad  treatment*  The  woman  says,  *  If,  by  Proserpine, 
instead  of  all  this  *  testifying:,'  (comp.  Cuddie  and  his 
mother  in  'Old  Mortality')  you  would  buy  yourself  a 


NOTES  SJ 


tfivet^  it  would  show  more  sense  in  you ! '  The  Scho- 
liast explains  echinus  as  07705  n.  U  Kepdfxov.*^ 

One  more  illustration  for  the  oddity's  sake  from 
the  ^'Autobiogfraphy  of  a  Cornish  Rector,^  by  the  late 
James  Hamley  Tregfenna.     1 87 J. 

**  There  was  one  odd  Fellow  in  our  Company — he 
was  so  like  a  Figure  in  the  *  Pilgrim's  Progfrcss  ^  that 
Richard  always  called  him  the  *  Allegory,'  with  a  long 
white  beard — a  rare  Appendage  in  those  days — and  a 
Face  the  colour  of  which  seemed  to  have  been  baked  in, 
like  the  Faces  one  used  to  sec  on  Earthenware  Jugs*  In 
our  Country-dialect  Earthenware  is  called  *Ctome* ;  so 
the  Boys  of  the  Village  used  to  shout  out  after  him — 
'Go  back  to  the  Potter,  Old  Clomeface,  and  get  baked 
over  again/  For  the  *  Allegory/  though  shrewd  enough 
in  most  things,  had  the  reputation  of  being  *  saift- 
baked/  u  e^  of  weak  intellect/' 

(XC)  ''At  the  close  of  the  Fasting  Month,  Ram- 
azan  (which  makes  the  Mussulman  unhealthy  and  un- 
amiable),  the  first  Glimpse  of  the  New  Moon  (who 
rules  their  6vrhion  of  the  Year),  hs  looked  for  with  the 
utmost  Anxiety,  and  hailed  with  Acclamation,  Then 
it  is  that  the  Porter's  Knot  may  be  heard — toward  the 
Cellar*  Omar  has  elsewhere  a  pretty  Quatrain  about 
this  same  Moon — 

**  Be  of  Good  Cheer — the  suUcn  Month  will  die, 
And  a  young  Moon  requite  us  by  and  by : 

Look  how  the  Old  one  meagre^  bent,  and  wan 
With  Age  and  Fast,  is  fainting  from  the  Sky  I '' 


NOTES  BY  THE  EDITOR- 

Giving:  References  from  Fitzgerald's  Rubaiyyat  to  the 
Originals  as  published  by  Nicolas,  Paris,  J  867, 
and  Mr,  Whinfield's  English  Version  Printed  in' 
J  882;  with  Occasional  Literal  Renderings  in  the 
Form  and  Metre  of  the  Originals, 

The  Roman  numerals  on  the  left  refer  to  quatrains  of  the  Rabaiyyat 
as  published  in  the  Fourth  edition.  The  Arabic  figures  in  the 
first  column  on  the  right  refer  to  the  Rubaiyyat  as  numbered  in 
the  Paris  edition.  The  Arabic  figures  of  the  last  column  refer 
to  Whinfield's  translation, 

(F.)  (N.)       [W.) 

L      This  raba'fy  is  not,  in  either  of  its  forms, 
found  in  Nicolas  or  in  Whinfield, 

II,    The  first  in  the  Persian  text  of  Nicolas  ,  t  Absent 
The  following  is  a  nearly  exact  rendering, 
both  of  the  sense  and  the  metre — 

Out  from  our  inn,  one  mom,  a  voice  came  roaring — '*Up  I 
Sots,  scamps,  and  madmen  I  quit  your  heavy  snoring  I  Up  I 

Come  pour  we  out  a  measure  full  of  wine,  and  drink  I 
Ere  yet  the  measure's  brimmed  for  us  they're  pouring  up  I " 

L  and  IL  can  be  compared  with  N,  255, 

"W*  J  58;  which  may  be  rendered  thus — 

(59) 


60  NOTES  BY  THE  EDJTOJR 


(F.)  (N.)    (W.J 

Lo  I  the  dawn  breaks,  and  the  curtain  of  night  is  torn. 
Up  1  swallow  thy  morning  ctip — Why  seem  to  mourn  ? 

Drink  wine,  my  heart  I  for  the  dawns  will  come  and  come 
Still  facing  to  us  when  ottr  faces  to  earthward  turn  I 

nL     Not  xn  the  Persian,  nor  in  Whinfield. 

IV.        iS6    i09 

**Thc  thoogfhtful  soul  to  solitude  retires'^ 
is  the  only  interpolation* 

V*      Not  in  the  Persian,  nor  in  Whinfield* 

VL    Partly  origfinal ;   partly  agfreeing;  with  .  J53       94 

VIL  Not  found  in  the  Persian,  nor  in  Whinfield* 

VIII i05      73 

Since,  bitter  or  sweet.  Life  ends  so  soon,  why  care,  Love? 

When  the  soul  from  the  lip  takes  flight,  what  matters  it  where.  Love? 

Quaff  wine  I— yon  Moon  that  waxes  and  wanes  unceasing, 
When  you  and  I  are  gone,  will  still  be  there.  Love  I 


jY     \  Seems  compounded  of  two  Persian     ( 
'  stanzas I 


455      250 
stanzas C370 


370  of  the  ori§finaI  may  be  rendered  thus — 

See  how  the  zephyr  tears  the  scarf  of  the  rose  away ; 
The  rose's  beauty  charms  the  bulburs  woes  away  1 

Go,  sit  in  the  shade  of  the  rose,  for  every  rose 
That  springs  from  the  earth,  again  to  earth  soon  goes  away  I 


NOTES  BY  THE  EDITOR  61 


Xc     Is  a  verbal  echo  of  the  Persian  stanza, 

but  quite  different  in  sense  ....       4J6     235 

The  original  is — 

So  long  as  thy  frame  of  flesh  and  of  bone  shall  be. 
Stir  not  one  step  outside  Fate's  hostelry ; — 

Bow  to  no  foe — e'en  Rostttm  or  21al — thy  neck. 
Take  from  no  friend  a  gift,  though  Hatim  he ! 

r       82 

frh    \  Compounded  of  three  stanzas  .    •    j       ^^^    234 
XII.  3  C     448    247 

82  in  the  original  is — 

In  the  Springtime^  biding  -with  one  who  is  houri-fair, 
And  a  flask  of  wine,  if  't  is  to  be  had — somewhere 

On  the  tillage's  grassy  skirt — Alack  I  though  most 
May  think  it  a  sin,  I  feel  that  my  heaven  is  there  ? 

4J3  in  the  original — 

A  flask  of  red  wine,  and  a  volume  of  song,  together — 
Half  a  loaf, — just  enough  the  ravage  of  "Want  to  tether : 
Such  is  my  wish — then,  thou  in  the  waste  with  me — 
Oh  1  sweeter  were  this  than  a  monarch's  crown  and  feather  I 

(A  parallel  is  also  found  in  No.  J  46  of  the 
Persian,  which  runs  thus — 

He  who  doth  here  below  but  half  a  loaf  possess. 

Who  for  his  own  can  claim  some  sheltering  nook's  recess. 

He  who  to  none  is  cither  lord  or  thrall — 
Go  I  tell  him  he  enjoys  the  world's  full  happiness  I) 


£2  NOTES  BY  THE  EDITOR 


(P-)  (N.)   (w.) 

XIII.  Compounded  of  two  stanzas,  tKe  first  J  6  J 

of  which  is  not  in  the  printed  text    (92      43 

The  Persian  of  N.  92^  may  be  rendered  thus — 

I  know  not  if  He  who  kneaded  my  clay  to  man 
Belong  to  the  host  of  Heaven  or  the  Hellish  clan  ;— 

A  life  mid  the  meadows,  with  "Woman,  and  Music,  and  "Wine, 
Heaven's  cash  is  to  mc  j — let  Heaven's  credit  thy  fancy  trepan  I 

XIV.  Not  found  in  the  Persian  of  Nicolas  .  J89 

XV.       \56        95 

This  i&  very  beautiful  in  Fitzgerald.  The 
exact  renderings  of  the  Persian  is — 

l^arling,  ere  griefs  our  nightly  couch  enfold  again. 
Bid  wine  be  brought,  red  sparkling  as  of  old,  again  1 

— ^And  thou,  weak  fool  I  think  not  that  thou  art  gold : 
'When  buried,  none  will  dig  thee  up  from  the  mould  again  I 

XVI.  Not  found  in  the  Persian  or  in  Whin- 

field. 
XVII 67 

This  old  inn  calFd  the  world,  that  man  shelters  his  head  in, 
(Pied  curtains  of  Dawn  and  of  Dusk  o'er  it  spreading  j) 
Tis  the  banqueting-hall  many  Jamshids  have  quitted. 
The  couch  many  Bahrams  have  found  their  last  bed  in  I 

XVm 69         35 

Here,  where  Bahram  oft  filled  his  Chalice  high,  elate. 
Now,  beasts  of  prey  the  ruined  palace  violate ; — 
Like  the  wild  ass  he  lassoed,  the  great  Hunter 
Lies  in  the  noose  of  Huntsman  Death,  annihilate. 


NOTES  BY  THE  EDTFOR  63 


(F.)  (N.)     (W.) 

XIX.    Not  in  Nicolas'  Persian  text   ....  58 

XX 59      31 

The  verdof c  sweet  yon  rivulet's  bank  arraying  there, 
**  *Tis  the  down  on  an  angel's  \tp/*  in  homely  saying,  there — 
O  tread  not  thereon  disdainfully  I — it  springeth 
From  the  dust  of  some  tulip-cheek  that  lies  decaying  there  I 

XXI 269      \(n 

Let  not  the  morrow  make  thee,  friend,  down-hearted  I 
Draw  profit  of  the  day  yet  undeparted: 

We'll  join,  when  we  to-morrow  leave  this  mansion, 
The  band  seven  thousand  years  ago  that  started  I 

XXn*  A  very  beautiful  stanza  which  I  do 
not  find  in  the  Persian 

XXIIL 348     205 

The  wheel  of  Heaven  thy  death  and  mine  is  bringing,  friend  I 
Over  our  lives  the  cloud  of  doom  't  is  flinging,  friend  I 

G>me,  sit  upon  this  turf,  for  little  time  is  left 
Ere  fresher  turf  shall  from  our  dust  be  springing,  friend  I 

XXIV.   Complementary  to  the  sense  of  XXIII^ 
with  an  addition  not  in  the  Persian. 

XXV 337      J98 

Myriad  minds  at  work,  of  sects  and  creeds  to  learn. 
The  Doubtful  from  the  Sure  all  puzzled  to  discern  x 
Suddenly  from  the  Dark  the  crier  raised  a  cry — 
**  Not  this,  not  that,  ye  fools  I  the  path  that  ye  must  turn  I  ^ 


64  NOTES  BY  THE  EDITOR 


How  delicately  and  skilfully  Fitzgerald 
turns  the  Persian  expression  literally 
into  a  common  English  phrase,  ^'neither 
here  nor  thctc/^  to  which  he  lends  new 
force  and  effect !  Instead  of  **  from  the 
dark,  the  Crier,^  "Whinfield  has  ^'from 
behind  the  veil  aVoice,^whiIe  Fitzgerald 
expresses  it  in  a  fine  paraphrase,  **A 
Muezzin  from  the  tower  of  Darkness*'^ 

XXVI*  Evidently  from  a  Persian  source 
which  I  cannot  identify.  It  resem- 
bles N.  J  20,  W.  82,  which  corres- 
pond to  the  following — 

The  learned,  the  cream  of  mankind,  who  have  driven 
Intellect's  chariot  over  the  heights  of  heaven — 

Void  and  overturned,  like  that  blue  sky  they  trace. 
Are  d&zed,  when  they  to  measure  Thee  have  striven  I 

XXVn 225      J43 

Forth,  like  a  hawk,  from  Mystery's  world  I  fly. 
Seeking  escape  to  win  from  the  Low  to  the  High  8 

But  finding  none  that  more  of  it  knows  than  I, 
Out  through  the  door  I  go  that  I  entered  by  I 

XXVIIL     Not  in  Nicolas J85 

XXIX*    I  Paraphrased  from  the  original  (not 

XXX.      j     in  Nicolas)  of 64 


NOTES  BY  THE  EDITOR  65 


<F.)  (N.)     (W.) 

There  is  a  hint  of  ft  m  N*  42  and  xn  W. 
\2f  which  corresponds  to  N.  22»  This 
last  may  be  rendered — 

This  life  is  but  three  days*  space,  and  it  speeds  apace. 
Like  wind  that  sweeps  away  o'er  the  desert's  face : 

So  long  as  it  lasts,  two  days  ne*er  trouble  my  mind, 
— The  day  undawned,  and  the  day  that  has  run  its  race. 

jQjXl'j^    {Neither  in  Nicolas j  JJJ 

XXXIIL     A  fine  stanza ;  not  in  N»  or  in  W* 

XXXIV.  Not  found  in  N.  or  W- 

XXXV.  Not  in  the  Persian  text  of  Nicolas.  J49 

A  similar  thougfht  h  contained  in  N.  389, 
W.  223— 

Sprung  from  the  Four,  and  the  Seven  I  I  see  that  never 
The  Four  and  the  Seven  respond  to  thy  brain's  endeavour- 
Drink  wine  I  for  I  tell  thee,  four  times  o'er  and  more, 
Return  there  is  none  1 — Once  gone,  thou  art  gone  for  ever' 

(The  four  elements  and  the  seven  heavens 
from  which  man  derives  his  essence.) 

XXXVL  Perhaps  suggested  by  N.  28,  W.  M. 

XXXVIL in      J37 

XXXVIIL  Perhaps  suggested  by  N.  n9. 


66  NOTES  BY  THE  EDITOR 

(F-)  (N.)        (W.) 

XXXDL J88      no 

XL.         40 

XLI P94 

(359 

XLII.       Partly  altered  from 49       28 

XLIIL     NotinNicoIas J39 

XLIV*      NotinNicoIas 218 

XLV-      80       37 

A  very  fine  and  sufficiently  close  render- 
ing:, but  the  final  ''prepares  it  for  another 
gfuest''  contains  an  idea  which  confuses 
the  relations  between  the  body  and  the 
souL    This  is  closer — 

Thy  body's  a  tent,  where  the  Sotil,  like  a  King  in  quest 
Of  the  goal  of  Nought,  is  a  momentary  guest ; — 

He  arises ;  Death's  fa.rra.sh  uproots  the  tent, 
And  the  King  moves  on  to  another  stage  to  rest. 

XLVI  I '3^       ^ 

XLVIL    Not  found  in  the  origfinal 

XLVIIL  Ditto.  Perhaps  suggested  by  N.  80 
and  N.  214.  The  latter  (214) 
may  be  rendered — 


NOTES  BY  THE  EDTTOR  67 

(P.)  (N.)      (W.) 

Up  I  smooth-faced  boy,  the  daybreak  shines  for  thee : 
Brimm'd  with  red  wine  let  the  crystal  goblet  be  1 
This  hour  is  lent  thee  in  the  House  of  Dust : — 
Another  thou  may'st  seek^  but  neVr  shalt  see  I 

XLDLt  L»t  LI»  Not  founds  These  three  and 
the  preceding^  one  are  probably 
founded  on  N.  365  and  N.  214 
blended* 

LII*         443  244 

LIIL        49  28 

UV.  Not  found* 

LV*         J8J  J06 

A  double-sized  beaker  to  measure  my  wine  WL  take ; 
Two  doses  to  match  my  settled  design  V\\  take ; 

"With  the  first  111  divorce  me  from  Faith  and  from  Reason  quite^ 
Vith  the  next,  a  new  bride  in  the  Child  of  the  Vine  TU  take  I 

This  h  a  conceit  derived  from  the  Moham- 
medan law  of  divorce*  Similar  imagfery 
h  used  in  N.  259. 

LVL      Not  found*     Perhaps  suggested  from 
the  same  source  as  XXXV* 

LVIL      Not  found*  Derived  fromN.22,which 
h  noticed  under  XXIX-XXX* 


68  NOTES  BY  THE  EDITOR 


(F.)  (N.)      (W.) 

LVIII 329 

A  tolerably  close  paraphrase  of  the  Persian 
%ordSf  but  convcyingf  a  totally  different 
sense* 

LIX J79      J05 

Only  the  last  line  differs  to  any  consider- 
able degree,  and  Fitzgerald  has  in  it 
replaced  the  original  with  a  superior 
idea* 

Si.   }  Not  found. 

LXIL  Suggested  by  the  conceit*;  of  cash  and 
credit  {ue*,  enjoyment  of  to-day, 
put  in  opposition  to  the  ascetic  holi- 
ness which  waits  for  joy  in  the 
next  world  )  ,which  recur  frequently 
in  the  Persian* 

LXIIL    Not  found* 

LXIV* 2J7     141 

LXV*      464     1X6 

Is  not  so  good  as  the  original,  which  iS  the 
last  stanza  of  the  Persian  text  as  ghren 
by  Nicolas* 


NOTES  BY  THE  EDITOR  O 


CF.)  (N.)      (w.) 

Those  who  were  paragons  of  Worth  and  Ken, 
Whose  greatness  torchlike  lights  their  fellow  men. 

Out  of  this  night  profound  no  path  have  traced  f of  os  ;— 
They've  babbled  dreams,  then  fallen  to  sleep  again  I 

LXVI.     Not  found. 

LXVn.  Altered  from 90        4J 

LXVIIL  Improved  from  the  Persian  .    .    .    .  267      \€S 

This  vault  of  Heaven  at  which  we  gaze  astounded, 
May  by  a  painted  lantern  be  expounded  : 

The  light's  the  Sun,  the  lantern  is  the  "World, 
And  We  the  figures  whirling  dazed  around  it  I 

LXIX 23J      J43 

But  puppets  are  we  in  Fate's  puppet-show — 
No  figure  of  speech  is  this,  but  in  truth  't  is  so  I 

On  the  draughtboard  of  Life  we  are  shuffled  to  and  fro. 
Then  one  by  one  to  the  box  of  Nothing  go  1 

LXX.    Not  m  Nicolas t04 

LXXI 216      J40 

Since  life  has,  love  I  no  true  reality* 
Why  let  its  coil  of  cares  a  trouble  be  ? 

Yield  thee  to  Fate,  whatever  of  pain  it  bring : 
The  Pen  will  never  unwrite  its  writ  for  thee  I 

LXXII 95       45 

LXXIIL  •)  C2i6     140 

LXXIV-  [Derived from j    85       40 

LXXV.    3  UJO       77 


70 

(F.) 

LXXVX 


NOTES  BY  THE  EDITOR 


Not  f ounc^ 


(N.)        (W.) 


LXXVTI.      Altered  considerably  from  .  .    .222      142 

In  the  tavern,  better  with  Thee  my  booI  I  share 
Than  In  the  mosque,  without  Thee,  ottering  prayer— 

O  Thou,  the  First  and  Last  of  all  that  is  1 
Or  doom  Thou  me  to  burn,  or  choose  to  spare. 


LXXVIIL 

LXXIX 

LXXX* 


99 

46 

\90 

n\ 

268 

390 

N.  99  is  as  follows— 

Vhcn  the  Supreme  my  body  made  of  clay, 
He  well  foreknew  the  part  that  I  should  play : 
Not  without  his  ordainment  have  I  sinned  I 
Why  would  He  then  I  bum  at  Judgment-day? 

N#  380  contains  a  similar  idea,  and  has  per- 
haps furnished  sugfgestion  for  LXXIX — 

The  wayward  caprices  my  life  that  have  tinted 
All  spring  from  the  mould  on  my  Being  imprinted  j 

Nought  else  and  nought  better  my  nature  could  be— 
I  am  as  I  came  from  the  crucible  minted  I 

LXXXL  Partly  from  the  same  sources  as 
LXXVIII-LXXX,  and  partly 
from 375 

But  the  origfinal  does  not  contain  the  idea 
of  ^  Man's  forgiveness  give — and  take ! '' 


NOTES  BY  THE  EDITOR  7X 


CF.)  (N.)      (W.) 

N#  375  may  be  rendered  thus — 

"Woe  I  that  life's  work  should  be  so  vain  and  hollow : 
Sin  hi  each  breath  and  in  the  food  we  swallow  I 

Black  is  my  face  that  what  was  Bid,  undone  is : 
— If  done  the  Unbidden,  ah  I  what  then  must  follow? 

-  „_____^-.      f  Contain  m  greater  ditiuseness 

Lxxxvn. )    *^^  ''^'*  ''^^  °* ^*^    '^ 

To  a  potter's  shop  yestreen,  I  did  repair  j 
Two  thousand  dumb  or  chattering  pots  were  there. 
AH  turned  to  me,  and  asked  with  speech  distinct : 
**  Who  is  't  that  makes,  that  buys,  that  sells  our  ware? ** 

LXXXIV-  1 

LXXXV.    j 2^ 

LXXXVI.    I  Suggested  by  several  of    the 
LXXXVIILJ      rubaiyyat^ 

LXXXDC       {J^^      ^^ 

"When  Fate  at  her  foot,  a  broken  wreck  shall  fling  mc, 

And  when  Fate's  hand,  a  poor  plucked  fowl  shall  wring  mej 

Beware,  of  my  clay,  aught  else  than  a  bowl  to  make. 
That  the  scent  of  the  wine  new  life  in  time  may  bring  me  I 

XC«  Not  in  the  original* 

XCI t09       76 


72  NOTES  BY  THE  EDITOR 


(F.)  (N.)       (W.) 

Let  wine,  gay  comradest  he  the  food  Tin  fed  upon  j — 
These  amber  cheeks  its  fttby  light  be  shed  upon  I 
Wash  mc  in  *t,  when  I  die ; — and  let  the  trees 
Of  my  vineyard  yield  the  bier  that  I  lie  dead  upon  I 

XCIL    -) 

XCIIL    [  Not  in  the  oM^inaL 

XCIV-  ) 

XCV 463      U5 

Since  the  Moon  and  the  Star  of  Eve  first  shone  on  high^ 
Nought  has  been  known  with  ruby  wine  could  vie : 

Strange,  that  the  vintners  should  in  traffic  deal  I 
Better  than  what  they  sell,  what  could  they  buy  ? 

XCVI J28       Z6 

Ah  I  that  young  Life  should  close  its  volume  bright  away  1 
Mirth's  springtime  green,  that  it  should  pass  from  sight  away  I 

Ah  I  for  the  Bird  of  Joy  w^hosc  name  is  Youth : 
"Wc  know  not  when  she  came,  nor  when  took  flight  away  I 

XCVIL      Not  found  in  the  origfinaL 

XCVIIL 1  Suggested  by  N-  2 16, 340, 457 ; 
XCIX.    j      W.t4O,2O0,25U 

N.  340  may  be  tendered  thus— 

If  I  like  God  o*tt  Heaven's  high  fate  could  reigii^ 
Vd  sweep  away  the  present  Heaven's  domain. 

And  from  its  ruins  such  a  new  one  build 
That  an  honest  heart  its  wish  could  aye  attain  I 


NOTES  BY  THE  EDITOR  73 


(F.)  (N.)       (w.) 

N«  457  is  as  follows — 

I  would  God  were  this  whole  w^orld's  scheme  renewing^ 
— And  now  I  at  once  I  that  I  might  sec  it  doing  I 

That  either  from  His  roll  my  name  were  cancelled. 
Or  luckier  days  for  me  from  Heaven  accruing  I 

c     {4    ' 


8  is  as  follows — 

Since  none  can  be  our  surety  for  to-morrow^ 
Sweeten,  my  love,  thy  heart  to-day  from  sorrow : 

Drink  wine,  fair  Moon,  in  wine-light,  for  the  moon 
Will  come  again,  and  miss  us,  many  a  morrow  I 

94. 

"i'hc  moon  cleaves  the  skirt  of  the  night — then,  oh  I  drink  "Wine  5 
For  never  again  will  moment  like  this  be  thine. 

Be  gay  I  and  remember  that  many  and  many  a  moon 
On  the  surface  of  earth  again  and  again  will  shine  I 

CI J92      U2 

Appoint  ye  a  tryst,  happy  comrades,  anon  I 
And  when — as  your  revel  in  gladness  comes  on — 
The  Saki  takes  goblet  in  hand,  oh  I  remember, 
And  bless,  while  you  drinks  the  poor  fellow  that's  gone  I 


74  NOTES  BY  THE  EDITOR 


The  foIIowin§f  may  be  added,  as  chat acteristic  of 
the  spirit  of  Omar  Khayyam : 

Thou  I  chosen  one  from  earth's  full  muster-roll  to  me  I 
Dearer  than  my  two  eyes^  than  even  my  soul  to  me  I 

— ^Though  nothing  than  life  more  precious  we  esteem. 
Yet  dearer  art  thou;  my  love,  a  hundred-fold  to  me  I 

Nothing  but  pain  and  wretchedness  we  earn  in 
This  world  that  for  a  moment  we  sojourn  in  t 

"We  go  I — no  problem  solved  alas  I  discerning  j 
Myriad  regrets  within  our  bosoms  burning  I 

O  master  I  grant  us  only  this,  we  prithee : 
Preach  not  I  but  muizl^  guide  to  bliss,  we  prithee ! 

"  We  walk  not  straight?  '' — Nay,  it  is  thou  who  squlntest  1 
Go,  heal  thy  sight,  and  leave  us  in  peace,  we  prithee  1 

Hither  I  come  hither,  love  I  my  heart  doth  need  thee  I 
Come,  and  expound  a  riddle  I  will  read  thee* 

The  earthen  jar  bring  too, — and  let  us  drink,  love ! 
Ere,  turned  to  clay,  to  earthenware  they  knead  thee  I 

N.7. 

"Wash  me  when  dead  in  the  juice  of  the  vine,  old  friends  I 
Let  your  funeral  service  be  drinking  and  wine,  old  friends  I 

And  if  you  would  meet  me  again  when  the  Doomsday  comes, 
Search  the  dust  of  the  tavern,  and  sift  from  it  mine,  old  friends  I 


NOTES  BY  THE  EDITOR  75 


N.  J3. 

Howc'ef  with  fccauty's  htic  and  bloom  endowed  I  be. 
Of  tulip-cheefc  and  cypress-form  though  proud  I  be ; 

Yet  know  I  not  why  the  Limner  chose  that,  here,  in  this 
Mint-house  of  clay,  amid  the  painted  crowd  I  be  I 

N.  57. 

Unworthy  of  Hell,  unfit  for  Heaven  I  be — 

God  knows  what  clay  He  used  when  He  moulded  me  I 

Foul  as  a  punk,  ungodly  as  a  monk. 
No  faith,  no  world,  no  hope  of  Heaven  I  sec  I 

N.88. 

Vicked,  men  call  me  ever ;  yet  blameless  1 1 
Think  how  it  Is,  yc  Saints  I — ^My  life,  ye  cry. 

Breaks  all  Heaven's  laws — Good  lack  I  I  have  no  sin, 
That  needs  reproach,  save  wenching  and  drink — ^then,  why? 

N.  358. 

O !  Thou  hast  shattered  to  bits  my  jar  of  wine,  my  Lord  I 
Thou  hast  shut  me  out  from  the  gladness  that  was  mine,  my  Lord\ 

Thou  hast  spilt  and  scattered  my  wine  upon  the  clay — 
O  dust  in  my  mouth  I  if  the  drunkness  be  not  Thine,  my  Lord  I 

According  to  the  testimony  of  an  old  MS.,  accord- 
ing: to  M»  Nicolas,  the  third  line  of  this  stanza  ought 
to  run  thus — 

"/drink  the  wine ;  't  is  Thou  who  fecPst  its  power — ** 


